Dragon Age: Torchwood 1-1: End of Days
by Bloodsong 13T
Summary: Rift Storms threaten to shatter the Earth and Torchwood 3 struggles to cope. Two contentious elves from a medieval world land in Cardiff. Are they just another problem on top of the pile, or might they be able to help? Desperate times call for desperate measures...
1. Flotsam & Jetsam

**Torchwood: Dragon Age Episode One "The End of Days"**

**Chapter 1: Flotsam & Jetsam**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Drama

Language: bad

Violence: yes

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: adult "situations" and humor

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 1/1

_Author's Notes:_

Not familiar with Torchwood and/or Dragon Age? See my profile for links to the Hitchhikers' Guides to get you up to speed.

The madness begins at the start of "End of Days," and messes things up by injecting some Dragon Age elves into the plot.

Totally unrelated Booyahs to the band Flotsam & Jetsam. No Place For Disgrace!

* * *

**Flotsam & Jetsam**

===#===

A streak of hellish purple light ripped across the blackened sky. With a roar like an archdemon's, it spat two figures out onto the road. They landed in an awkward heap, blinked once, then pushed off from each other and rolled to their feet. Twin blades out in a flash, they stood back to back, looking wildly about for attackers.

Powerful magelights blinded them. There was a cacophony of blaring trumpets, high-pitched screeches and inhuman squeals, and what sounded like a lower Kirkwall drunk yelling, "Ge' owt a tha road, ya bluidy loons!"

"This way!"

The two darted instinctively towards a dark alley, counting on the protection of the shadows for safety.

"What was that?" Gwen barely had time to register the sound of unearthly thunder and disrupted traffic before the Rift Activity alarm started beeping. Jack had already slammed on the brakes and hauled the SUV into a dangerous illegal turn down a side street. Gwen pressed her hands and knees against the dashboard to keep from being thrown about in her seat. With only one hand on the steering wheel and only half his attention on the road, Jack flipped open his wrist strap and fiddled with the controls. Of course he just _couldn't_ leave the driving to someone who had her hands free. Gwen braced against the dash as they cut across the boulevard and wove through traffic.

"Two anomalies," Jack reported. "They don't look too big; should be easy to handle."

"Oh sure," the Welshwoman griped as she reached in the back and began reloading the big gun. "Like those small dinosaurs in _Jurassic Park_ that spit acid in your face. Oh, or those wee little baby aliens in _Galaxy Quest_. 'Do you guys even _watch_ the show?'" she quoted. "'Any minute now, they're going to turn mean and vicious!'"

Jack spared her a glance, his brow quirked. "You've been watching too much science fiction."

Gwen sighed. "Not lately."

Jack slowed the car and turned into an alley. He checked his readout again. "Okay, Sigourney Weaver, they're around this corner." He eased the SUV to a stop and gestured to a fire escape. "Give me cover."

"What are you going to do?" Gwen asked in concern. Something stupid, no doubt.

"I'm just going to try talking to them."

"Oh, that worked real well with the Viking." She flicked her head, indicating the hairy pile in the back that looked, sounded, and smelled like a drunken bear.

"Maybe I'll get lucky."

Gwen hoisted the gun, got out of the car, and headed for the ladder. Jack gave her some time to get into position, then slowly moved the vehicle around the corner.

===#===

Bannon pressed his back against a good solid wall and flicked hair out of his eyes. He cursed Zevran's fondness for long hair, because it was always getting in his eyes and his mouth - in his food. It's a wonder he didn't cough up hairballs. Meanwhile, another part of his mind was racing, trying to make sense of this place where they'd landed, spy any landmarks, tag any and all possible threats, and figure a way out of this mess. Why had the Veil torn right there? It was an ordinary stretch of road they'd traveled hundreds of times. Could it have been a trap?

"Where are we?" Heightened adrenaline emphasized the Antivan's breathy accent.

"The Blackened City?" Bannon ventured hesitantly. He looked at the narrow sliver of sky between these two tall buildings. It was dark, rimmed with a faint halo, and starless.

"I don't think so," Zevran said. "There are too many lights, no?"

Just then, another swath of white light cut across them. The elves drew back further into the shadows, behind heaps of refuse. Something big in the mouth of the alley was growling low. Bannon only needed a quick flick of his eyes to communicate with Zevran. The assassin melted away to circle the target. Bannon, as usual, would be the bait.

===#===

Jack put the SUV in park and checked his gun. This one only held one round at a time, and he hoped he wouldn't need it. He stepped out of the car and walked forward, next to the wall of light from the headlamps. He scanned the end of the alley, but didn't see anyone - not that he blamed them for hiding.

"Hello?" he called out. "Can you understand me? I'm not going to hurt you." He took a few careful steps forward, keeping the gun down in the folds of his coat.

"Who are you?"

Jack's ears perked up. Thank God, they spoke English. "My name is Captain Jack Harkness. I'm with Torchwood; we're here to help you."

"Why?"

"You've fallen through a Rift in the space-time continuum."

"Like a tear in the Veil?"

"I don't know what 'the Veil' is," Jack said; "but it sounds about right." He couldn't believe his luck! Someone rational, who could grasp these concepts and be reasonable about it. What a relief.

The figure stepped hesitantly out from behind a dumpster. He wasn't very tall; he looked about 17 or so. He appeared to be armed - there were what looked like sword hilts sticking up behind his shoulders - but he made no threatening moves. Slowly, he came a bit closer.

Jack relaxed his stance. "The Rift exits out here in Cardiff," he explained. "Torchwood is responsible for... well, whatever washes up here."

The boy came closer, watching him with disconcerting intensity. "Did you do this?"

"You mean, cause the Rift that brought you here? No." Well, maybe _technically_ they were responsible for the current Rift upheaval, but now wasn't the time for getting into complicated details. "If you'll just come w-"

"_Jack, behind you!_"

Gwen's airgun barked, and Jack whirled to see the second figure drop bonelessly to the pavement. Quickly, he turned back - but the first guy had closed the distance between them in a blink and shoved a knife into Jack's gut. Jack's arm jerked up, and he fired point-blank into his attacker's chest. The kid collapsed backwards with a shocked grunt of pain.

"Shit..." Jack grimaced and sank to his knees, clutching his stomach, trying to pinch off the flow of blood. And God, intestinal fluid? It burned.

He heard Gwen's running footsteps come up behind him. "Jack! I'm so sorry." She skidded to a halt and put a hand on his shoulder. She flicked hair out of her face. "He had a knife, I thought... Are you all right?"

He looked down at the blood pouring over his hand, soaking the bottom of his shirt, dripping over his belt to spread over his trousers. He used his free hand to pull his coat away from the mess. "Aw, fuck!" He grimaced in pain.

"What is it?"

"He sliced my coat!" Jack frowned at the three-inch slit in his vintage World War II pea coat. It could be sewn, but it would leave ugly stitches. Unless Ianto knew a miraculous way of mending it.

"Oh!" sighed Gwen dramatically, straightening up. "Never mind all the blood, then! Shall I fetch you a tailor?" Her ire was accenting the Welsh brogue. At least she stopped worrying about him. Though she knew his secret, it was quite another thing to see him hurt and bleeding.

"I'm fine," he growled. "Get their weapons. I'll help you get them in the back in a second." It would take that long for the wound to close and stop bleeding. He didn't want to have to explain a lot of blood everywhere. While he waited, he glanced at the brown-haired young man lying a few feet away. _I don't envy the headache you'll have when you wake up,_ he thought uncharitably.

Gwen efficiently disarmed the young men, searching them for hidden weapons. She came up with quite a few blades. Jack got up and helped her load their limp bodies in next to the Viking. The weevil tranq would have them all out like lights for several more hours. He leaned on the tailgate when they were done, surprised to find himself panting from such a small effort.

"Are you all right?" Gwen asked.

And that burning sensation hadn't gone away. Jack looked down through the hole in his shirt. The wound was an angry red line, now. "I think I've been poisoned." Clammy sweat broke out over him. Gwen's eyes went wide in renewed fear. "Get me in the van," Jack said, his own voice sounding fuzzy in his ears. His vision shrank to a pinpoint as the world receded into blackness.

===#===

Jack slumped to the ground in a heap, despite Gwen's grab for his arm. "Oh, don't you dare!" She tugged at him, but he didn't budge. He wheezed a horrible death-rattle for a few seconds, then he stopped. He was dead.

Gwen swore underbreath. There was no use panicking. Get him in the van. "Right." She sat back on her heels. "And how am I supposed to do that, you great lummox?"

Of course, he had to collapse as far away from the passenger door as possible. The logical thing would be to just grab him by the ankles and drag him over. He was dead, after all, and wouldn't feel any discomfort. But Gwen couldn't stomach the thought of scraping him across the dirty pavement, littered with bits of gravel and broken glass. She briefly considered a fireman's carry, then decided she didn't want to throw her back out.

So she wrapped her arms around his chest and hauled him bodily around. She leaned back against the side of the SUV with him propped against her legs and opened the door with one hand. So much for the easy part.

The thing about a dead body wasn't so much that it was a dead weight. A sack of potatoes was dead weight, but at least it was a regular shape. A dead body had so many awkward limbs sticking out, that insisted on bending one way and not the right way. Its center of balance wasn't centered, and tended to shift. No matter how much of which part Gwen shoved up into the seat, the center of gravity seemed to be on the part that made it fall back out.

Swearing and muttering imprecations, Gwen finally got fed up and clambered over his back to get inside the vehicle. Then she turned around and grabbed his arms and hauled back like a rower, dragging him up over the passenger seat. Before he could slither back out, she grabbed for his upper arms and pulled again, bracing her knees against the seat. One more haul ought to do it...

Naturally, he picked the worst possible moment to 'wake up.' His head was pressed to her stomach, so when he gasped a heavy breath, he practically inhaled the bottom of her shirt. He gagged and coughed, and the convulsive motion caused Gwen to lose her balance and fall down between the seats. Her butt dropped down and she was wedged in a V, her hands and feet flailing for purchase but unable to find any.

Jack was caught between her knees, his head pinned under her breasts. He twitched a bit, trying to look around. "Uh...," came his muffled voice. "This is unusual. Do I want to know what you were doing with my corpse?"

His left hand roamed upward, trying to probe whatever it was resting on his head. Gwen slapped at it. "Jack!" she growled, teeth clenched. "You have exactly to the count of three to Get. Off. Me. Or you are a dead man. _Again!_"

He didn't move. "Well, I've just been dead and woken up in a strange position," he mumbled into her pants. "Any precipitous movement might make things worse."

"One..."

"I could hurt someone, you know. I'm not even sure where all my - hello! I think I've found my right hand."

"_Two...!_"

"Okay, okay!" He managed to push himself up gingerly on his arms and pry himself halfway out of her lap. He raised his head and came nose-to-cleavage with her. "Uh...," he started.

She didn't bother waiting for any snarky comments, she just shoved at his face and started wriggling out from under him.

"Ow!"

"Get off!"

"I'm trying!"

Jack somehow managed not to grope her, which was lucky for him. She managed not to accidentally boot him in the groin. Panting, faces flushed, they finally got untangled. Gwen pulled her dark hair out of her eyes. He grinned like a schoolboy and she glared daggers at him.

She swung into the driver's seat.

"Hey, I-"

"No, you're not driving," she snapped. "You've been dead ten minutes." She longed to reach down and yank the seat forward with the bar, but it was one of those annoying electronic seat adjusters. She held the little button down furiously while the motor smoothly and slowly edged the seat up.

"But I'm fine now," Jack insisted. He grinned again. "In fact, I feel rather invigorated!"

She shot him another scathing glare.

"I suppose this is somehow all my fault."

"Yes! Now sit down and close the door."

Jack sighed and complied.

===#===

They really needed a better way to transport bodies from the van to the Vault. Jack and Ianto finished dragging the two young guys into an empty cell and deposited them on the slab bench. They both took a moment to arrange the limp bodies a bit more comfortably, and Jack studied their outfits. Leather and metal, they were clearly some form of armor.

"I don't recognize the period of this style," Ianto said, also looking it over. "Could they be misplaced LARPers?"

"No, their weapons were real enough. Look at this." Jack touched the cheek of the blond one, turning his head. Damn, he was fine-looking. Jack tried to focus. He pulled his eyes away from the flowing tattoos and took the pointed ear tip between his finger and thumb. He tugged it gently to see if it was real. It was. "Does yours have pointed ears?"

Ianto brushed back long strands of chestnut hair. "Yes. So they're aliens? Vulcans, perhaps."

"You've been watching too much science fiction."

"Not lately," Ianto said sadly.

Jack pressed a thumb to his chin in thought. The young, strong body sprawled before him was so relaxed so... inviting. That smooth bronze skin, that long flaxen hair... He looked at the other - luxurious hair, dark eyelashes against paler skin, amazing cheekbones... Was it getting warm in here? "I don't want you or any of the others talking to them," he said, shaking himself. "They might be fae." He turned to go, the quicker the better. Fae glamour was a sticky trap.

"Is that blood on you?" Ianto asked sharply.

"Yes, but it's not mine," Jack lied smoothly. He continued at a brisk pace before the sharp-eyed Welshman noticed the slices on this clothing. "Come on, the next one's a Viking."

===#===

With a groan, Zevran peeled his eyes open. He was in some dank, dark, hard place - _dungeon_ - and he had the worst hangover. He sat up on the hard slab, rubbing his head, noting the lightness of his weapon harness that meant his weapons were gone. Bannon lay next to him. Zevran could see at a glance that his partner was alive, so he focused on their prison.

It was smooth stone of a dark colour. Dim illumination came from overhead, casting an eerily steady pool of light on the floor. There was some sort of recessed door at one end of the cell, but the other end caught the assassin's attention, for the entire thing was made of glass. _Oh, this will be easy_, he thought. _Or... hideously difficult and dangerous_. Zevran didn't trust things that were just handed to him. Beyond the glass was a dark corridor, barely different from the cell they were in.

He stood and turned to Bannon, tried to rouse him. Bannon groaned. It took some prodding and pulling from the assassin, but they finally got him sitting up. The thief put a hand to his solar plexus. "Andraste's Tits," he gritted. "I feel like I've been punched in the stomach."

"What happened?" Zevran asked. "I remember hearing someone yell, then..." He shrugged.

"I knifed that guy, but..." Bannon shook his head. "He had some kind of weapon. I didn't get a good look at it. Some kind of crossbow, I think. He shot me." Gingerly, he probed the leather armor on his chest, but it was undamaged. Or nearly. Peering more closely revealed a tiny puncture.

"Needle," Zevran informed him. "They drugged us."

"No point asking why, I guess. Just glad they didn't kill us."

Zevran grinned. "It is because I am very lucky, no? And you're with me!" He straightened and pulled his partner to his feet. "They took our weapons," the assassin said. "Though I am sure you still have your picks. However, I think I can handle our breakout on my own." He flashed a smile and waved at the glass wall.

"Come on, Zev," the thief said skeptically. "You know it's got to be a trap."

Barely daunted, the Antivan stepped to the window-wall. He put his fingertips lightly against it; it was a tad warmer than he'd expected. He leaned close, trying to peer up and down the corridor. He couldn't see into the cells on either side (that he assumed were there), nor any sign of life in the dark hall. "Hello?" he called out cheerily. "I am about to escape!" How convenient the glass was punctuated by these rows of round holes in it. Not only did they permit sound to carry, but they no doubt compromised the glass' strength. "I say," he called out after a moment; "does anybody care?"

His sharp ears caught some faint grumbling and growling from the right end of the hall.

Bannon also had his pointed ears cocked. "Dogs?"

Zevran shrugged. "No, they would be much louder. It sounds like people in other cells, no?"

Apparently, the thief didn't know either, because he just shrugged back. His lack of concern about guard dogs encouraged Zevran. Bannon was afr- er, he didn't like dogs. If he really thought there were dogs out there, he'd be much more worried.

With a cocky grin, Zevran stepped back from the glass, raised one foot and gave it a swift, hard kick. Instead of the musical tones of shattering glass, the wall gave out a dull thump. Zevran hopped back, cursing a string of hot Antivan invectives, grabbing his throbbing foot. He hopped on one leg in a complete circle while Bannon watched. At least the thief didn't say anything.

Gingerly, Zevran put his sore foot down. Nothing broken. He eyed the glass wall evilly. Then he shot a quick glance at his partner. The two elves didn't need any further communication. As one, they charged across the cell and rammed shoulder-first into the glass. This produced a doubly-loud WHAM, then two thumps as the elves bounced off the wall and onto the floor. An assortment of groans followed.

"Shit," said Bannon, now clutching his sore shoulder.

"Well," Zevran said in mock brightness; "at least my head doesn't hurt so much now." Bannon only rolled his eyes and gave him a look. "Ah, right. So perhaps the thief should take the lead in formulating our escape plan, no?"

===#===

The sad fact was, the cell was locked down tight. It was built tight. Hell, it barely had a drain in the floor as its only concession to a latrine. If you even tried sticking your hand down in it, you'd get stuck. Mages must have built this cell.

Finally, weary, sore, and disheartened, the two elves caught an hour or two of fitful sleep.

===#===

Ianto rolled the trolley into the first hall of the Vault. The lights were just coming up for the day cycle in the Hub. The weevils were huddled at the back of their cell. They were sewer-dwellers; they ate offal. Ianto uncovered their tray of slop and slid it in through the slot. They hissed at him, curved fangs gleaming with spittle.

He moved on to the Viking. The rest of the inmates were getting rice. It was cheap and easy to make in bulk, plus he was pretty sure everyone could digest it. The same couldn't be said for pizza with sausage and peppers. When Ianto put the food and water through the slot, the Viking pounced with a roar. Screaming Nordic imprecations, the huge hairy man flung the bowl at the transparent barrier, spattering it with rice. He hurled himself after it, slamming his meaty fists and chest against the barrier, spittle flying from his gap-toothed mouth.

Ianto couldn't help but flinch, even though he knew the industrial grade plastic could probably stop a charging rhino. It wouldn't do to take the invective personally. Anyone would be upset at being displaced in time and space and kept confined. They had no way to communicate with the 'guests' to make things easier, either.

The two in the next cell were also awake. They bent to retrieve their food and water. "Thank you," said the dark-haired one.

"You're welcome," Ianto replied automatically. His eyes caught those of the young man. He had very soulful dark eyes. Ianto quickly tore his gaze away.

"What's your name?" the prisoner asked amicably.

"I'm really not supposed to talk to you," Ianto said, fiddling with the trays for the samurai.

"Why not?"

Ianto hesitated. Jack had given specific instructions, but if they were fae, wouldn't it be just as dangerous to insult them? "In case you try to use fae glamour on me."

The both of them made a disparaging noise. "We're not fae," the dark-haired one said with a sour note.

"We're elves," the blond one chimed in. He had a Mediterranean accent. "Plain, ordinary city elves."

Ianto didn't think the fae would lie about that. Still, what did he know about real fae, anyway? Only that they were hideously dangerous. He pushed the cart onward. "You'll have to excuse me."

"Hey," the dark-haired elf called after him. "That captain guy said you were going to help us. This isn't helping!"

"I'll forward your inquiry to him," Ianto said. It was all he could do.

===#===

Bannon growled, "Lying shems." He turned and sat on the floor across from Zevran, who was carefully poking through one of the bowls.

The Antivan offered no comment, he just took a few grains of rice into his mouth, rolled them around thoughtfully on his tongue. He shrugged and swallowed. "There's nothing in it." He handed his bowl to Bannon, and the Denerim elf traded his back. Paranoid as they were, they'd never trust that what was true of one bowl would hold the same for the other.

Bannon ate his, frowning speculatively at the little white spoon. It looked like porcelain, but felt like polished wood. Very brittle.

"So," Zevran said, switching to his native Antivan tongue, in case they were overheard; "with these new tools, how long do you think it will take for you to break us out of here?"

Bannon shook his head. He replied in the same language. "I don't think these will help." He turned the thin utensil over in his fingers. "I wouldn't mind some salt on this." He resumed eating.

Zevran chuckled. "Such the arl you are," he teased. "What a fine nobleman's palate you have acquired."

"Shut up," Bannon growled in a friendly manner. In the same spirit, he kicked Zevran in the leg.

The Antivan moved slightly, partly deflecting the blow. "What do you think they want with us?" he asked in a more serious tone.

"Who knows? Probably the same old crap: they need slaves."

"So, all we have to do is bide our time until they set us to work." Zevran tipped his head and gave his partner a sly smile. "Whatever shall we do to occupy ourselves while we wait?"

Bannon shook his head, not returning the smile or the sentiment.

Zevran huffed. "Well, why not?"

"I don't know, just..." Bannon frowned at the glass wall. "This thing makes me feel like I'm being watched. It's like a huge window."

"There is no one out there to see," the assassin scoffed.

"I'm sorry." Bannon couldn't explain it, but something was very wrong.

===#===

Jack was in his office, staring at the CCTV screen monitoring the Vault. The cell of the two elves took up the main screen.

"They want to talk to you," Ianto reported to his boss.

Jack turned his head sharply as if startled. His hand made a motion towards the monitor switches, aborted as he folded his arms.

"I don't think they're fae." Ianto continued. "They say they're elves."

"I thought I gave specific orders not to talk to them."

"I didn't talk to them," Ianto said levelly. "That didn't stop them from talking to me."

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. He moved forward precipitously and snapped off the monitors. "I don't have time to deal with them right now."

"They seem reasonable," Ianto pointed out. He understood the necessity of keeping non-indigenents out of harm's way, but it seemed a pity if it weren't strictly necessary.

Jack scooped a remote off his desk and pointed it at another screen, turning on the international news channel, muted. Ianto's eyes followed, then widened. "Is that... the Taj Mahal?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "This has gone way beyond Cardiff. I already had UNIT on my ass this morning asking what the hell is going on and if we're responsible." He put the remote down and picked up his mobile. "Get Tosh and Owen in here. I'll call Gwen." He punched the speed-dial.

Ianto took his own phone and moved away a bit to call Owen.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," he heard Jack say on the other line. The acerbity was barely contained, making it quite clear he wasn't the least bit sorry of he'd interrupted Gwen and Rhys while they were still abed. "Turn on your television."

Ianto turned away as Owen picked up.

===_X_===

* * *

_End Notes:_

Jack: "Maybe I'll get lucky."

-Always hopeful, that one. :X

.

Jack: _I don't envy the headache you'll have when you wake up._

-I didn't really mean him to quote _The Princess Bride_ there.


	2. The Ripple Effect

**Torchwood: Dragon Age Episode One "The End of Days"**

**Chapter 2: The Ripple Effect**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Drama

Language: bad

Violence: yes

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: none

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/1

_Author's Notes:_

Disclaimer: this takes place in the fictional world of Cardiff, not the real one. I tried consulting Google Maps to get the generalities, but in a toss-up between writing the story and doing geographical research... sorry, but writing the story won :X Cardiffians may lynch me by proxy, if it makes you feel better.

Special thanks to eatenbydragons and Ventisquear for continuity checking and beta testing.

* * *

**The Ripple Effect**

===#===

Toshiko pulled up a world map on the conference room monitors while Ianto handed out coffee - extra strong. After a late night chasing down Rift activity, the morning was too early. He took the empty seat next to Owen, across from the women. Jack remained standing, like a sentinel.

"Not all the data is in yet," Tosh explained as she punched commands on her laptop. "And some of it is a bit spotty. But when I interpolated it..." She looked up and the others followed her gaze to the screen. A series of lines fanned out over the map. All of them had their origin on a tiny island northwest of the European continent. Owen muttered a curse.

"So," Jack said, "this _is_ all our fault." He shot a hard look at Owen.

The doctor slouched further in his chair, favoring his wounded shoulder. "My fault you mean," he said bitterly.

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"Do I not get one break for the fact that I pulled your arses out of that anomaly and brought you back?"

"You forgot the first rule everyone learns when they get here: Do _not_ mess with the Rift."

Tosh interjected, "Jack, that's not fair."

The captain didn't take his eyes off Owen. "And how many lives were lost, or destroyed, as a direct result of your actions?"

With a snarl, Owen pushed himself up out of his chair to face Jack. "Yes, I am responsible. Is that what you want me to say? I take full responsibility for my actions! But what about you?"

"Me?"

"You sent us those equations." Owen jabbed an accusatory finger at him. "And don't tell me Little Miss Meekers here defied a direct order not to send them." Toshiko flinched at his callous dismissal, but no one could argue the point. "What did you expect us to do with that info, Jack? Sit here with our thumbs up our arses?"

"All right," Gwen barked. "That's enough!" She glowered across the table at the two men. Sullenly, they quit snarling at each other and looked at her. "What's done is done. Blaming each other is getting us nowhere," she said with pragmatism. "The question is, what are we going to do now?"

Tosh spoke up. "Well... We haven't had any Rift activity here in Cardiff since 9:48 pm. Since then, these incidents-" she nodded at the screen- "have spread out not just geographically, but chronologically as well. It appears the Rift emitted a pulse. It's spread to the four corners of the world. And, as far as I can tell, disappeared."

"So it's over," Owen said.

"We can hope," Jack added darkly. "Tosh, keep an eye on it."

===#===

Not fifteen minutes later, the Rift alarms started blaring.

"Oh no," Tosh said, eyes widening at her screen. "No, no, no..."

"What is it?" Owen asked, dreading the answer.

"There's five- no, seven!- Rift openings, all over the city."

"Simultaneously?"

"It's worse than last night!"

Jack came down the stairs, scowling. "Is there going to be another ripple effect?"

"I can't tell yet," Tosh said.

Jack rubbed his face. "All right, divide them up- Owen and Ianto, you go west; Gwen, you're with me on the rest." He turned to get his coat from Ianto. "Alert the local precincts to be on the lookout for the 'unusual.' Then start calling the UNIT bases in Europe, tell them to be prepared."

The team scrambled into action.

===#===

"You didn't need to be so hard on Owen," Gwen ventured as they drove to their third target area. "I don't think you should have shamed him in front of the others." Jack didn't answer. Gwen took that as a good sign. Maybe he was actually listening for once. She debated whether one more sentence would push him over into obstinate mode, when her phone rang. She spoke briefly into it.

"That was Andy," she said after disconnecting. "They've got themselves a Roman centurion they want us to pick up."

"Huh." Jack grinned wryly. "Time was, a sweaty Roman centurion before breakfast was the start of a really good day."

Gwen rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. As long as Jack kept his sense of humor, she was sure everything would turn out all right.

===#===

"I'm going to crack," Bannon said.

Zevran sighed in boredom. "That's the ninth time you've said that."

"I mean it this time!"

"And that's the eighth time you've said _that_." The assassin lounged on his back on the stone slab bench. One leg dangled over the side; he swung it idly.

Bannon paced the short length of their cell. "I admit it! This is the most fiendish, evil torture ever devised!"

"You're bored again?"

"I'm bored! Bored, bored, bored!"

"I told you twenty times how we can amuse ourselves."

Bannon ignored him, for the twenty-first time. "From now on, one of us has to keep a deck of cards hidden on his person at all times!"

The assassin's reply was forestalled by a noise at the end of the corridor. Instantly, both elves had their faces plastered against the glass wall like a couple of kids at a candy shop window, trying to see what was going on. There was a big commotion as several people were herded into a cell. Bannon thought he saw that shem who'd brought the food earlier. A few minutes later, they heard his voice.

"Weevil activity is increasing on top of everything else."

The voice that answered him sounded like the guy who'd shot Bannon. "Maybe they're sensitive to temporal disruptions."

"Are you sure it's safe to put them all in here?"

"They're social creatures, they'll be fine."

There was a roar, a screech, and a lot of hissing. It sounded a lot like darkspawn, but Bannon didn't sense anything. He glanced at Zevran, who gave him a questioning look. He shook his head.

The slavers retreated and the noise settled down. The elves stayed poised at the glass, sensitive ears cocked.

A few minutes later, the tall captain returned, carrying some kind of dog-sized animal past their cell. He was followed by the jailer the elves recognized, and a small woman with dark skin and hair. They all had the strange animals, something like a cross between a bear and a pig, with long, thick tails.

"I guess you didn't kill him," Zevran muttered to his partner.

"Sorry, buddy; I tried."

Zevran shrugged it off. "Was a woman who shot me anyway, no?"

"Open five!" the captain yelled down the hall.

"You can open ours, too!" Zevran added.

Of course, that didn't happen. Bannon was getting annoyed standing at this glass wall, unable to see what was going on, gawking like some desperate, helpless child. The shems presumably dumped the animals into the fifth cell. They paused a few feet down the corridor.

"Tosh," the captain said; "can you get these guys to take in a Roman centurion roommate?"

"I tried talking to them once," the woman replied. "They won't listen to me; I'm a _girl_."

"You can do that Mulan thing and try again?" the other man asked.

The woman rolled her eyes and left. The two men started past the elves' cell.

"Hey," Zevran called to the supposed leader. The man ignored the elves entirely. "Hey!" Zevran yelled again, incensed at being treated like nothing. He started again, trying to get the shem's attention with something really vitriolic, but Bannon put a hand on his arm.

"Don't waste your breath."

The second man, the jailer, shot a brief glance at Bannon. An apologetic look flashed across his face before he hurried off in the captain's wake.

"I wasn't going to waste my breath," Zevran growled. "I was going to give him a-"

"Shh!" Bannon leaned closer to the glass, straining to hear the voices beyond the corridor. Only the captain's was strident enough to make out.

"Open the other levels. All nine of them."

The elves looked at each other. "What was that about?" Zevran asked.

"The cells are full." Bannon frowned thoughtfully.

"Well, more slaves, more profit, no?"

"I don't know. Something _very_ strange is going on."

===#===

The lower levels of the Vault had never been opened, not in all the years Ianto had been here. In fact, they'd only ever used the one wing of the top level. The others were normally closed up, which had allowed Ianto to use one to house the cybernetic shell of his former love, Lisa. He felt a familiar stab of guilt at recalling her name, her fate. If only he hadn't been so stupid! She could have been cured. Instead, she'd become a killing machine.

Ianto blinked and shook his mind free of such thoughts. He had a job to do, now. And by the look of things, it was only going to get bigger. As for what Torchwood would do with all these misplaced people once the crisis was over... Well, one thing at a time. Jack would handle it.

The weevils only got fed once per day. So onward with the lunch cart. Mr. Surly Viking, thank you so much for your patronage. Then it was those two elves. Ianto hastily put their bowls through the slot, but it was no use. They were waiting for him.

"What's going on?" the brunette asked, not unreasonably.

"I'm sorry, I can't ans-"

The blond one cut in. "You seem to be having difficulty with this 'Rift' of yours."

"For a bunch of slavers, you don't seem too happy with this big crop of prisoners."

Ianto blinked at the accusation. "Slavers? No- we're Torchwood. We're trying to help these people." Violent though most of them were. Well, all right- all of them. The non-violent ones probably went to ground and hid. It was the dangerous ones Torchwood had to contain.

"This does not seem helpful," the blond complained.

"Look," said the other elf reassuringly, "just let us out of here. We can find our own way."

"No, I can't," Ianto insisted.

"Why not?"

"It's too dangerous out there for you."

He was not convinced. "I think we can handle ourselves."

"I'm sorry, really." Ianto pushed the cart onward. "You truly have no idea."

Just then, the lights flickered and went dim. Ianto stopped and looked up curiously. He started to reach for his comm to ask Toshiko what had caused the brown-out, but froze as a figure came towards him out of the shadows at the end of the corridor.

She had smooth, dark skin, toffee-coloured eyes that sparkled when she smiled, like she did now. _Lisa_. His mouth formed her name, but there was no breath in his body to voice it. But Lisa was dead. Ianto licked his lips nervously. "Who are you? What are you?" He backed up a step as she came near.

"Ianto, it's me." Her voice was strong and melodic, like it used to be, before it had turned hard and mechanical.

"No," he said shakily. "Y-you're d-dea-"

She touched her fingertips to his lips. "Shh. Yes, I know. I can only be here a few short moments, my love." Her fingers trailed along his jaw, down the side of his neck. Her warm, soft lips pressed to his. Ianto couldn't move. It had to be a trick, a fae glamour, alien mind control, _something!_

But her body was so warm against his, the sweet taste of her lips, the very scent of her- it was all to real.

"I came to warn you," she said, reluctantly breaking the kiss. "The entire universe will tear itself apart; the strain is too great. You must open the Rift, fully, to release the pressure. Or we will all be destroyed."

===#===

Bannon and Zevran stared quizzically at the human, staring blankly into space. "Who are you talking to?" Zevran asked.

A pale old fellow stepped up to the glass wall. "He is communing across the Veil."

The two elves jumped back, startled. "Who are you?" Bannon demanded.

"I used to be the Guardian of the Rift," the man said. "Until my place was usurped." He smiled bitterly and raised his open hands upward, gesturing at the environs of the dungeon.

"You're a mage?" Bannon asked.

"I'm here to tell you how to return to your home. The Rift must be opened. Then you can step through and return to the exact place and time you left."

"But we're not mages," Bannon insisted. "How are we to open the Veil?"

"These people called Torchwood have the means," he replied. "All you need do is make sure they use it."

Zevran snorted. "That will not be so easy, stuck here as we are."

"There will be an opportunity." The mage pointed past them, into the cell.

The elves turned and found their weapons laid out on the benches. They pounced on the blades an began stowing the knives and daggers. When they glanced back, the mage had vanished.

The dungeon went pitch black for a moment, then the world was bathed in hellish red light. The elves grabbed their swords. The glass door swung open.

===#===

Alarm klaxons blared throughout the Hub. "What's going on?" Jack made his way swiftly down the steps to the computer center.

"We're going into automatic lockdown," Tosh reported breathlessly. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. "It's the Vault, it's been opened."

"Which one?"

"My God... all of them!"

"Ianto!" Had the archivist started his rounds down there? Jack ran for the Vault entrance. Gwen already had the same idea; she had her gun out. There wouldn't be any tranquilizing of lost souls this time.

Gwen got to the heavy industrial door and threw her weight against it. Despite its thickness, the sounds of screaming- alien and human- penetrated it. Jack shoved Gwen aside and tried to muscle the door open. It was no use; it wasn't humanly possible, even with a high dose of adrenaline.

Gwen got on the comm. "Tosh, we're here; open the Vault door."

_"I can't! We've lost all power to the lower levels!"_

"Owen," Jack shouted at the comm, "flood the Vault with knockout gas!"

_"But-"_

"_Now!_" This was no time for a discussion! They were slaughtering each other in there, and Ianto was unarmed in the middle of it. "Stay here," he told Gwen, and raced back to the computer center. "Get the power back up." Why the hell wasn't there some sort of command override for the lockdown? Oh, right, in case someone tried to do something stupid, like let a flood of homicidal prisoners into the Hub to try to save one man. The lockdown protocol wasn't there to protect the members of Torchwood, it was to protect the outside world from whatever deadly threat might be unleashed inside the headquarters. Jack slammed his fist down on the keyboard in frustration. "Get the power on and get that door open!" he told Tosh, uselessly, since she was already working on it as best she could.

Jack retraced his steps. "Owen! Where's that knock-out gas?"

The Torchwood doctor appeared from the med bay, hauling a crate in his arms. "Best we've got is this pacifying stuff for the weevils. No idea how well it's going to work. Grab that fan."

Jack turned, and another alarm started to blare. It was drowned out by an earth-shattering blast of lightning. It threw him off his feet, inundated the whole world with white. All his hair stood on end, and it felt as if little fingers were plucking at him. The edges of the white darkened to violet, and the sensation of pulling grew stronger. Hell, it was the Rift- it was opening right on top of him!

===#===

"Even the world beyond will suffer," Lisa said, stepping back. "Help us, Ianto." She disappeared as the lights blinked off and flashed red. The cell doors swung open. The four samurai boiled out of their cell with a battle cry- and armed! How did they get their swords?

Ianto ducked down behind the scant cover of the serving cart, but not before one turned in his direction. The others were quickly engaged with those bearcat creatures.

Ianto shoved the cart at the samurai. It staggered him only momentarily. The Welshman couldn't make a break for it; the Viking taking on nearly twenty weevils was blocking the other end of the hall. Ianto ducked the katana's blade, but he wasn't going to be able to dodge for long. His only hope was that the strobing emergency lights would foul the samurai's aim.

In the next flash, he saw the blade coming at his face. He threw himself backwards to the floor. A spark ignited as the katana met another blade, a straight sword. One of the elves was there. He flipped the swords up then stuck a second blade into the samurai's exposed armpit. The elf planted a boot on the samurai's hip and shoved. The Japanese warrior went down, bleeding.

It was that dark-haired elf. Ianto heard the Mediterranean accent of the other one from further up the hall. "That is the wrong direction."

"Come on," the dark-haired elf told Ianto.

He scrambled to his feet. "Not that way. Get back in your cell."

"Hah!" scoffed the blond.

"The back door is open," Ianto tried to explain.

The brunette shot a glance in that direction. "The hell."

"It's unlocked," Ianto clarified. "The next hall is not full of-!" He gave up trying to be reasonable and talk over the building screams and roars. He just shoved past the elves, into the cell, and pushed the iron door open. They followed.

The back hall led them to the side of the Vault entry chamber. The weevils had flooded it, and were taking on all comers. The place was a bloodbath. Beyond the carnage lay the door. Ianto could see the lockdown bars were engaged, but they could be manually overridden. He wondered if he dared. The point was moot, however. "You can't fight them all," he pointed out to his elven companions.

"He has a point, _amore_."

Just then, a weevil noticed them. With a hiss, it attacked.

===#===

This was _not_ a good time to get flung off into some random place in time. Jack lunged in what felt like the opposite direction of the pull and grabbed onto something. It felt like one of the iron railings in the Hub; he still couldn't see a thing. He clung for dear life as the purple vortex tried to suck him down. There was a horrible rending noise as the universe tore open.

With as much abruptness as it had begun, the Rift closed up again. Reality slammed back into place. Stunned, Jack fell heavily to the floor, still retaining his deathgrip on the rail.

A figure darted past him. Toshiko moved to help Owen up, calling his name. The doctor and his crate were lying on the floor at the feet of a tall silver robot. A Cyberman!

Jack scrambled to get his feet under him. "Get away! Don't let it touch you!" Toshiko hauled the doctor to his feet, and they stumbled away, the cyborg taking up pursuit. "Run!" Jack pulled out his gun. He knew it was useless against Cybermen, but all he needed to do was distract it. He aimed carefully at the thing's head, knowing the shot would ricochet off.

He pegged it three times before it stopped and turned back. "Resistance is futile," it said.

"You've been watching too much _Star Trek_," Jack griped, and then wondered how he was going to keep this thing from killing him- or worse, 'upgrading' him. If his body were dead, but his brain were still alive... It didn't bear thinking about.

Jack skipped back out of the Cyberman's reach, drawing it further away from his team. Owen and Tosh fled up the steps to the overlook.

===#===

Something tore through the center of the Hub, drowning out even the thinning screams behind the Vault door. Gwen didn't know what it was, nor whether she should abandon her post. Abandon Ianto. She stood fast. A few minutes later, gunshots from the center of the Hub made up her mind for her. She ran back to the others.

She skidded through the archway and halted, noticing Owen and Tosh fleeing for the stairs, and that silver robot menacing Jack. She leveled her firearm.

"Don't shoot!" Jack yelled, catching sight of her. "_Gwen, look out!_"

She whirled, and a huge, hairy, bloody Viking was bearing down on her, swinging a battle axe. She tried to bring her gun up while simultaneously jumping back, resulting in the axe missing her head and vitals, but grazing her arm and slamming the gun out of her hand. She fell, hard.

The Viking pressed the attack. Gwen rolled quickly, and the axe slammed down right next to her, slicing a long hole in her jacket. With a growl, the Viking hefted his weapon to try again. Gwen tried to scramble back, but he followed with relentless strides, raising the axe.

===#===

There was no way Gwen could dodge the next blow. Jack took swift aim at the Viking and fired. As he did, the Cyberman swiftly closed and swiped at his arm, knocking his aim off. The bullet gouged the floor not far from Gwen's head. _Dammit!_

The Viking's back arched sharply as he held the axe poised at the apex of the swing. His roar of triumph turned into a gurgle of blood fountaining over his wild red beard. The Viking dropped to his knees, axe clattering to the floor beside him, then he pitched forward. Gwen was still scrambling away; he fell heavily over her legs. The blond kid- it was that elf!- yanked two swords out of the Viking's back. His partner hopped deftly over the fallen battle axe, and both of them ran straight towards the Cyberman.

Jack dodged another clumsy swing from the cyborg and jumped aside as the elves attacked it. He ran towards Gwen, but another figure appeared and was already helping her up.

"Ianto!" she called in surprise and relief. Both of them ran for the stairs, Jack following closely behind.

Owen took Gwen aside to see to her injured forearm. "It just grazed me, thank God," she said. Ianto pulled off his tie and handed it to the doctor, who started wrapping Gwen's arm.

"Tosh, help me with this," Jack said, grabbing the corner of a heavy antique filing cabinet. Together, they wrestled it to the top of the stairs and heaved it over. It was wide enough to block the stairs.

Ianto looked over just as they tipped it. "Not the 1850 to 1920 micro-" the cabinet wedged against the stair rail, and the drawers shot open, spilling thousands of black plastic flimsies down the stairs; "-fiche!" He put his hands to his head.

Owen said, "Don't worry, mate. Think of it as job security, all those months you'll have to spend sorting it all out again."

This was even better than a solid barricade. The slippery plastic sheets covered the stairs, promising treacherous footing that would foil any cyborg trying to climb it.

Owen asked Ianto if he were hurt. Though his suit jacket was ruined, the archivist reassured them none of it was his blood. They had a bit of a breather for now, but there was still a crisis to deal with. The captain moved past them to the rail and watched the two elves battling the Cyberman. They were fast and agile, keeping easily out of reach of the cyborg. One would hit the thing with his swords, enticing it to turn, then the other would dart in and slash at the Cyberman's unprotected joints. They could have easily cut their enemy to ribbons- except that their blades had no effect on it whatsoever.

"You can't hurt it," Jack yelled at them.

The elves were coming to the same conclusion. "Up!" yelled the dark-haired one as he broke and ran for the court below the mezzanine, sheathing his blades. The blond one followed swiftly, the Cyberman lumbering after them.

Darkie turned below the center of the overlook and laced his fingers together into a stirrup just as Blondie leapt to plant a boot in his hands. Darkie launched him up and he caught the railing, kicked off the concrete, and vaulted over top. He didn't stop, but grabbed the lower rail and slipped under it, sliding to the edge of the walkway with his legs extended down. At the same time, Darkie took two steps towards the Cyberman, turned back, and sprang up at the rail. There was no way he could jump up and reach it, but Blondie caught him on his shins, right under the arms, and swung his legs up. With that extra boost, Darkie snagged the railing and somersaulted over. Blondie got to his feet.

The Cyberman marched over and looked up at the assembled people. "Human," it assessed Jack and his team. "You will be upgraded." It paused, turning to look at the elves in some confusion. "Not human," it decided. "You will be eliminated." The two elves simultaneously flipped the cyborg an obscene gesture.

Unmoved, the man-shaped machine turned and stomped off.

"I don't understand," Blondie said, panting to catch his breath. "I know I hit him; the poison should be working."

"Anborn said, with armor, you need to use a hammer," his companion replied. "Bash him around inside it."

"It's not armor," Jack interrupted. They looked over at him. "It's metal all the way down."

"Oh, a golem?" Darkie shrugged, unconcerned. "Crushing still works. Just... drop a big rock on it. What's your ceiling made of?" He looked upward cannily.

"We can't drop the ceiling on it," Owen objected.

"No...," Ianto said slowly. He turned to the others. "But we do have a really big door."

"Right," the pessimistic doctor agreed sarcastically. "All we have to do is show him out. After, of course, we release lockdown and get the bloody door open."

Toshiko, who'd been listening but watching the cyborg said, "What's it do-? Jack! It's going for the Rift controls!"

_Shit!_ Jack turned to the elves, but they were already gone. They'd spied a coil of steel cable, ran over, grabbed it, then leapt over the rail and back into the fray. The Cyberman was just reading for the control panel when a loop of cable closed over its wrist, and the elves hauled it back. They kept it off balance as they darted around it, tangling it up further.

But bare steel cable was not a good idea to use against electrical defenses. Jack looked at his team. "Ianto: heavy duty rubber gloves!"

The archivist flicked through his mental catalogue. "Med bay."

"Go get them; Gwen, Owen, you too. Tosh!"

"Door! On it!" The tech knew her job.

The three of them started to pick their way down the slippery stairs as quickly as possible. Jack simply vaulted the rail and landed heavily on the main floor. Blue-white light flashed in the center of the Hub, and someone screamed.

===#===

Zevran grinned as he and Bannon danced around the golem. It was slower and clumsier than any shem- it was hopeless against the elves, metal, flesh, or otherwise. They snared its limbs and pulled it back towards the open center of the floor where they could maneuver better.

Then magelight flared, and electricity crackled over the golem and down the cable in Zevran's hands. His arms went painfully numb, and his feet left the ground briefly as the spell's impact threw him back. He fell heavily, unable to catch himself. His entire body shook uncontrollably.

The golem had managed to seize Bannon's arm as the elf moved in to cinch the ropes tighter. Blue-white light surged over the golem's skin and burst around the elf like a halo. Bannon screamed.

The lightning flared and died out. Bannon fell bonelessly to the floor. Zevran felt the breath squeezed out of him; he could not shout. He tried to scramble to his feet and move forward, but his limbs wouldn't obey his will. All he could do was thrash helplessly, like a rat with its neck crushed in a trap. His heart tried to crawl up his throat.

Then he coughed convulsively. His heart slammed back into place and he regained some control of his shaking limbs. It wasn't graceful, but he scampered to his partner's side. "Bannon!" The thief didn't move. Zevran grabbed him by the arms and pulled him against his chest. "Don't you dare leave me here alone!" The assassin spiraled into panic. "Bannon!"

===#===

Jack grabbed the trailing cable the elves had dropped and yanked the Cyberman away from them. He had a few moments before its defenses recharged. He looped the cable over the thing's head and hauled it off its feet. If he could just secure the legs...

===#===

Owen saw the kid electrocuted and jumped onto the stair rail to slide down it like a child on a banister. He just hoped he didn't lose his balance and break his fool neck. He hit the floor, stumbled a bit, then raced to the two teens.

"Set him down," he told the distraught blond fellow as he knelt. "I'm a doctor, I can revive him."

"You're a healer?"

"Yes, but you have to set him down," Owen insisted forcefully. He pressed two fingers to the dead kid's carotid just to conform that yes, he was dead. He put his hands on the kid's chest, one over the other, and started CPR.

===#===

Jack started to cinch the last loop tight when the Cyberman unleashed another burst of electricity. It arced into his hands, making them clench, then ripped through his body, lighting up his nerve endings like a city at night. A hundred thousand points flared in white hot pain, engulfing him, tearing a scream from his throat.

===#===

The blue-white glare cut out, leaving vague ghosts on the retina. The smell of ozone and singed hair filled the Hub center as the leader of Torchwood collapsed. Owen surged halfway to his feet, stopped by the blond guy's grip on his arm.

Gwen darted past. "Stay with him, Owen; I've got this!"

"You know CPR?" He didn't remember that on her file.

"Yes!"

The blond guy was gripping Owen's arm so rightly, his fingers were digging into the tricep. "If he dies," the young man threatened direly, "so do you."

Owen pinched his mouth into a frown line. He knelt back down, shoving the guy off of him. "You threaten your physician, you get lousy results," he growled, resuming compressions on the dead guy's chest. "Not to mention huge bills."

===#===

Gwen went to Jack's fallen body and rolled it onto its back, shoving it as far away from the downed cyborg as she could manage. She knelt down so her body blocked Owen's view and put her hands on Jack's chest, just like she'd seen on the telly hundreds of times. She hoped she wasn't hurting him. Of course, he was dead, but she couldn't quite wrap her brain around that. She knew he'd wake up in a few minutes, so it seemed to her that he was just unconscious, and thus somehow still able to register pain.

She performed the chest compressions as well as any actress, then, hoping Rhys never found out about this, bent and closed her mouth over Jack's.

===#===

The dark-haired kid twitched and started coughing. Owen jumped back. The blond guy grabbed his friend and pulled him to half sit on his lap. "Easy," Owen warned. "Give him some air."

"Zevran?" the brunette gasped.

"I'm here, _amore_. It is all right."

Owen got up and moved over to Gwen and Jack. Ianto was hauling the cyborg away by himself, face flushed with exertion, but Owen had medical matters to attend to. He skirted around the whole mess to come up on Jack's other side. "Gwen, how's it-"

She reared back, her eyes startled wide. Just then, Jack gasped and floundered about a moment. Owen crouched and gave him a quick once-over. "Well, there doesn't seem to be any residual damage. Good job, Gwen." He helped the captain sit up.

Jack blinked, a somewhat confused look on his face. His eyes shot to Gwen. She ducked her head and swiped the back of one hand across her lips. Owen rolled his eyes. For God's sake, the so-called 'kiss of life' wasn't like actual snogging!

Jack opened his mouth to ask something, but whatever it was going to be was drowned out by a horrid metallic screeching. The tooth-grinding, chalkboard-scraping noise rose in volume and pitch, making everyone slap their hands over their ears.

The sound broke with a deep CRUNCH, then started over again, revving up to an ear-splitting volume. This repeated three times as everyone else, Torchwood and 'other' alike, staggered up to see what it was.

Ianto stepped away from the huge cog door as the sound faded with a weakened whine. He removed the heavy duty gloves from his hands. "Well," he said, "that's one Cyberman decommissioned. Whether our door still works remains to be seen."

"Good job," said Jack, looking around at his team.

Gwen said, "We need a conference." She shot a pointed look at their leader. "Jack?"

"Agreed."

Owen wondered what the hell was so bloody important to talk about when they had a number of messy situations still up in the air. It wasn't for him to decide, though, was it? He went upstairs, grabbing the nearest medkit on the way. He could at least bandage up Gwen's arm properly and give Ianto his ruined tie back.

===#===

Jack grabbed something from the clutter around the computer consoles, then turned to the two aliens. "I need you guys to stay put a minute," he told them as he dropped a portable prison at their feet. It almost didn't work. They couldn't possibly know what the device was, but as soon as the words 'stay put' were out of his mouth, they sprang away from it. The energy bands caught them and threw them back against each other. They scrabbled against the prison walls, the look of panic on their faces downright comical.

Jack didn't laugh; he had to feel sorry for them, though they were handling it better than most humans in their situation- tears in the Veil, cyber-golems, they seemed to take it all in stride. "It's not going to hurt you," he assured them. "Just wait here." They glowered at him.

He followed his team up into the conference room. Owen was rebandaging Gwen's arm. It looked horribly bruised. Before Jack could check on her, she turned to him. "Tell them," she insisted.

"We're not here to discuss this."

"You tell them right now, or I will." She pulled her arm out of the doctor's grip, leaving him cursing underbreath in frustration. Jack clenched his teeth as Gwen faced him squarely, looking up at him as if she were tall enough to cower him. "Owen was going to leave off tending that man to help you, Jack."

"That's protocol," Owen said. "He's our leader; he has priority."

"That's right," Gwen agreed, not taking her glare off Jack. "But there might be other lives in danger."

"All right!" Jack raised his hands. "New protocol: if I get killed, anyone else hurt or injured gets priority."

Tosh frowned. "That makes no sense." She glanced between Gwen and Jack, puzzled.

"That's bollocks," Owen clarified.

Gwen narrowed her eyes and Jack tried to brace himself. "That could have been any one of us, Jack. That could have been me out there, and Owen would have left me to die to help you. And for what? For no reason!" The others were giving her odd looks.

This time, Jack really did have to give in. "All right." He looked at each of his team in turn, hoping this wasn't one giant mistake. "I can't die," he confessed.

Tosh, Owen, and Ianto looked at each other. Owen said, "But you did die. Didn't you?" He turned to Gwen. "Why were you doing CPR on him if he wasn't dead?"

"He _was_ dead. And... I don't actually know CPR. I didn't revive him."

"Okay, more specifically: I can die," Jack interrupted with a grimace. "I just get better."

Owen's brow wrinkled. "You were dead," he clarified, "and Gwen didn't revive you. You just 'got better'?" Jack nodded. "How's that work, exactly?"

"Don't ask me, because I haven't the faintest idea."

They all stared at him. So far, so good, but...

"Are you even human?" Owen asked.

"Yes, I'm human."

Hesitantly, Ianto added, "Are you from this planet?"

"Yes," Jack insisted. "Look, something happened to me," he explained. "I... died. But then somehow, I was brought back to life." He shrugged helplessly. "Since then I've been this way. Now you know as much as I do."

"How long ago was that?" Ianto asked, his face still creased in worry.

Jack shot Gwen a glare; this was all her fault. "Uh, a while."

Tosh said, "You can't be simply from the 1800's or something. You're too... I don't know, technologically savvy. And that thing," she pointed to his wrist strap. "That's definitely advanced technology."

"You're from the future!" Ianto gasped, everything falling into place.

Jack raked one hand back through his hair. "All right, fine!" Who trained these people? Oh, right. He might as well spill the whole thing, then. "Yes, I'm from an earth colony in the future. The 51st century, to be exact. No, I _don't_ know who wins the World Cup this year or any other year coming up."

Ianto gave Jack a level stare. "So... you're from another planet, from far in the future... who came to Earth some time in the past... and you don't stay dead."

"Yeah."

"Oh. That's going to be a problem."

Jack tensed up with worry. "Why?"

Ianto got up and went to a cabinet. He pulled a folded card from a drawer. "None of those options were listed in the betting pool."

Jack gaped at him. "You bet on me?" He looked at each member of his team, one at a time.

Gwen shrugged sheepishly. Toshiko said, "You were so enigmatic, what did you expect?"

Jack palmed his face. Only the nuts of Torchwood 3 would be more concerned with their betting pool than the insane history of their leader. "All right, can we get back to business here? Those two elves: I think we should bring them on board."

"Elves?" Owen said. "You want to hire elves?"

Toshiko added, "But they're... well, not human."

"What is this, Santa's workshop?" the doctor griped.

Jack said, "They speak English. They have a pretty good grasp of what's going on here. They could be useful to us."

"They seem quite reasonable," Ianto added. "Well, given the circumstances. And they did save my life. Twice, actually."

"And mine," Gwen added.

"Yeah, well 'Blondie' threatened to kill _me_," Owen growled; "if I didn't save his buddy."

"That would have nothing to do with your winning personality and gregarious bedside manner," Ianto quipped dryly. Owen raised his lip at him.

Jack said, "Look, you saw them out there against that Cyberman. And the Viking. We could use that kind of help. Does anyone disagree?" He let them chew it over a minute, and what they were thinking was clear. Was Torchwood going to give up on containment and resort to fighting? Jack hoped not, but against things like the Cyberman? They'd have to. The others looked up to him. No one voiced any argument. "All right," Jack said. "I want you to be careful dealing with these people. They aren't like us, they come from a different culture."

"Essentially, aliens," Tosh said.

"Essentially, yes," Jack agreed. "Now they're not fae, but they are elves, which may be closely related. That makes them quick, clever, and very cunning. They're very beautiful and can be charming. If you find yourself strongly attracted to them, be very careful."

"Well that leaves you out of it," the snarky doctor commented.

Jack just shot him an acerbic look and led the way back down to the elven prisoners. Behind him, Owen, Ianto, and Tosh continued the all-important discussion about the betting pool.

"There's one box we didn't fill in," Ianto said pragmatically.

"Give it up, Ianto," Owen said. "He clearly likes twinks- no offense- that means I win."

Toshiko said, "He flirts with plenty of women. And they all like him."

"Women always go for the gay ones!"

Ianto's voice of reason insisted," There's nothing indicating that he's not bisexual."

"And the only one he's bangin' on is you, tea-boy."

"Th-That-That's not-" Ianto stuttered, momentarily losing his composure. "That doesn't preclude it, either!"

Jack stopped and turned to them. "In fact, I'm _omni_-sexual. We have a whole lot more variety in the 51st century."

They gaped, even Gwen, who had abstained from the conversation. Of course, she had probably bid on 'straight,' and that went out the window the first time Ianto had finally decided to respond to Jack's advances.

Tosh said, "That means I win."

"You put in 'bisexual,' the same as I did," Ianto pointed out, checking the card.

"Actually, I believe my exact words were, 'anyone, anything, any time.'"

Jack grinned and tipped his hand towards her. "Tosh wins!"

Ianto sighed, but marked the card with a pen. "Duly noted." He tucked it into an inner pocket as the group continued on to the main floor. "But since this is Earth, 21st century, and we only have two sexes- unless you're doing something with those weevils-"

"Ugh!"

"-then that technically means you are bisexual."

"Are you?" This came from the blond elf as the Torchwood team fanned out in a semi-circle around the portable prison. He draped an arm around his companion's neck and smiled alluringly. "So are we." His amber eyes sparkled.

Jack gulped audibly, suddenly distracted by the unbidden thought of two sleek, muscled, and well-oiled- he shook his head sharply to dislodge that thought. Fortunately, everyone else was too busy gaping to notice.

Owen broke the awkward silence. "Am I the only one in this room who doesn't like blokes?"

The chestnut-haired elf shrugged off the friendly blond and said, "I don't like humans." Then he glanced over at Toshiko and Gwen. "Human men, I mean." The women blushed like schoolgirls.

"Look," Jack said, trying to regain some control. "Again, I sincerely apologize for all this." He gestured at the forcefield. "You may have noticed we've been having some problems. You seem quite capable; we'd like you to work with us."

The dark-haired elf threw his hands up. "Oh, that's just typical!"

His comrade actually laughed. "We fall through a tear in the Veil and get stranded, and _they_ need _our_ help."

"You can't possibly be surprised."

The humans of Torchwood looked on rather bemused. To sweeten the deal, Jack said, "Once this crisis is over, we'll be able to help you properly. So. Will you work with us?"

The elves looked skeptical. Blondie leaned over and said something to his companion. It didn't sound like English. The other elf turned to him and replied, a little louder, apparently not so concerned about being overheard, trusting that the humans didn't know the foreign language.

Jack said aside to Ianto, "Can you tell what they're saying?"

"Not sure," the Welshman murmured back, "but I think they're calling you a big fat liar."

Jack shrugged. He'd been called worse. Most of it true... at least at one point in time. He refocussed as the elves turned back to him.

The blond one seemed to defer to the other elf most of the time, though not in any rigid hierarchical sense. Or else Darkie was the usual mouthpiece, while Blondie snuck up on people with knives.

"If we choose to decline your generous offer, I suppose it's back to the dungeon?"

Jack held out his hands in a shrug. "It's for your safety."

The elves made disparaging noises. Then Darkie said, "Fine. We'll do it."

Jack didn't know whether to be worried about the quick and unnegotiated surrender, or just be glad they didn't dally around. Either way, he'd handle it. He stepped forward to release them.

"Hang on," Owen said. "That's it? You're just going to trust them?"

"What do you want, a signed contract?"

The doctor huffed in annoyance. Jack went to the coin-sized forcefield generator. This was a quick and easy test: to release the elves, he had to crouch down, quite vulnerable, within reach of those swords. He glanced at each one first; they just waited. So he bent and retrieved the controller, flicked the forcefield off. He paused briefly, but they did not take the opportunity to decapitate him. So far, so good.

He stood up and pocketed the portable prison. Though when he noticed the brunette avidly watching, he palmed it to stow somewhere else later. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness, as you may recall," he said, brusquely returning to where he had been standing. "You'll be taking orders from me." He paused to assess their reaction. The elves only stood, still waiting patiently. "This is my team: Doctor Owen Harper, Ianto Jones... Toshiko Sato, Gwen Cooper." Each member of the team nodded or waved to their guests, as suited their personality.

"My name's Bannon," the brunette said. "This is Zevran."

"Welcome to Torchwood."

===#===

"Toshiko, check the readings from the Rift. Start tracing any pulses around the globe. Gwen, get power back to the Vault and bring the monitors up." Jack frowned. "The rest of us are going to be an cleanup duty." He glanced to Ianto. "We'll probably want coveralls." The archivist nodded and set about to fetch them. "Owen... fire up the incinerator."

"The power's on downstairs," Gwen reported.

"That was fast." Jack moved behind her to look at the monitors.

"It came on by itself already," the policewoman explained. She punched up the video feeds, cycling through all the cameras. "My God," she breathed. "It's a massacre." Each screen showed piles of the dead, splashes of blood.

Jack slowly clenched his teeth, keeping his expression neutral. All those people, the creatures they'd been trying to help- they'd killed each other in a frenzy.

Owen came up by his elbow. "Hang on, I think I see movement. I've got to get down there."

"It's dangerous!" Gwen warned as the precipitous doctor turned to grab his emergency medkit.

Jack turned around. "You two," he said to the elves; "you're armed. Escort the doctor into the Vault." They nodded and jogged off after the Torchwood medic, drawing their swords. That went well; they seemed used to taking orders. Jack turned back and met Gwen's worried gaze.

"You think it'll be all right, sending him alone with them?"

"They're on our side." He shrugged. "At least until they get a better offer."

He was spared her scathing analysis of his threat assessment and recruiting techniques by the arrival of Ianto with an armload of coveralls. Jack grabbed the biggest one and started putting it on. Quickly, Gwen and Ianto followed suit.

"Good job with the rubber gloves," Jack told Ianto.

"Thank you, sir."

"What happened down there?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Ianto said, his fingers slowing on the coverall zipper as he thought back. "I... I don't know. Everything suddenly went black. Then the emergency lights and alarms came on, and all hell broke loose."

"Did you see anything strange?"

"No."

"We're glad you're safe," Gwen told Ianto, touching his arm. This seemed to snap him out of his reverie, and he pulled his clothing straight.

Jack tried to catch his eye, to convey a more personal expression of relief, but Ianto didn't look at him before heading towards the Vault. Gwen followed. The captain took a moment to check on Tosh.

"It's very early, but... yes, it looks like the effect is rippling outward again." She turned away from the monitors, her eyes big behind her glasses.

"Collect all the data you can," he told her, his voice level and reassuring. "The more we understand about what's going on, the better the position we'll be in to stop it."

She nodded, confidence returning to her face. Jack turned away before she could spy any doubt in his. The Rift had never behaved this way before. None of this was supposed to be happening; humanity's introduction to the greater universe at large happened much later in the 21st century.

He'd just have to trust that this crisis would get solved, and without destroying the Earth.

===_X_===


	3. Rift Storms

**Torchwood: Dragon Age Episode One "The End of Days"**

**Chapter 3: Rift Storms**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Drama

Language: bad

Violence: yes

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: none

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0

_Author's Notes:_

This is a big one. I had to split it into two parts on my SMF forums.

Thanks to Springhole for randomly-generated alien species name.

Special thanks to Ventisquear for continuity checking!

* * *

**Rift Storms**

===#===

Owen waded among the bloody bodies, checking for survivors. His stomach turned. Not at the gore, that didn't bother him, but just the sheer stupid waste of it all. Humans- and most aliens he'd seen- were a damned violent species. There was no reason for all this killing. Only panic and the inability to communicate had set them at each others' throats. They had no reason to fight.

There were five survivors: three weevils, the smallest bearcat, and the centurion. Two of the weevils were ambulatory, with mostly superficial wounds. Owen forestalled the elves from skewering them and had them herd the creatures back to their cell. The third had a broken leg and wasn't going anywhere. The centurion and bearcat were in worse shape; Owen had to work quickly to stabilize them. They'd both lost a lot of blood, and it wasn't likely he could save both. His first impulse was to give the human priority over the 'animal,' but that was being terribly speciest. If both had been human? He would patch up the kid and hope the Roman could hang on.

"You two!" he yelled for the elves. He jutted his chin at Blondie. "You keep pressure here on his chest. And you, on his leg." The brunette knelt by the wounded soldier, but the blond guy dawdled.

"He is not going to survive," Zevran said with cold disinterest.

"Just get your arse down here and do what I tell you!"

The elf looked about to protest, but his friend cut him off, saying simply, "Zev." Zevran complied silently, replacing the doctor's bloody hands on the centurion's chest.

Owen wiped his hands on his coat- already ruined- then splashed them clean with a bottle of alcohol. He worked swiftly on the bearcat.

The quiet elf, Bannon, said, "He needs a healing potion."

"We do not have magic healing potions," the doctor growled, neither looking up from nor slowing his work.

"I thought you were a healer," Zevran said. "You do not have healing magic? But how did y-?"

"Medical science! Now shut up!"

===#===

Bannon looked across at Zevran. No magic? "_Como de magico?_" he asked his partner- what about the mage they'd seen? He'd definitely had magic.

Zevran just shrugged.

===#===

They lost the centurion. It wasn't the elves' fault, Owen kept reminding himself. _And it wasn't yours, either._ He got the bearcat into its cell, patched up and sedated. He set the weevil's leg.

The others stacked bodies like cordwood onto gurneys and hauled them to the incinerator chute. Ianto spread lime over the blood-slicked floor.

===#===

They got washed up. Bloodstained clothes were the last things to go into the incinerator. Owen had to pull spares out of his locker; Ianto had lost the jacket to his suit. The elves merely hosed down their leathers.

Tosh had ordered up sandwiches, and the cleanup crew descended on them ravenously. "Reports are still coming in," the tech explained. "But clearly, the last Rift 'storm' also generated a ripple effect that spanned the globe. By my calculations, we have approximately three hours be-" She was suddenly cut off by the blare of Rift alarms. Her jaw dropped and she stared in disbelief.

"Calculations a bit off?" Jack snapped, more harshly than he usually spoke to Tosh.

She blinked and grabbed her laptop. "No... unless the interval is decreasing." Her eyes darted over the screen. "Seven, eight, nine... eleven Rift anomalies!"

"And the intensity is increasing," Ianto filled in.

===#===

Shit. The world was going to hell in a handbasket, and it was all Owen's fault. At least according to Captain Harkness. Owen was doing all that he could to make it right, and he'd do even more, but dammit, this Rift roundup nonsense was getting old. And why the hell had the bloody captain partnered him with Blondie, here? Did he forget the twink already threatened to kill him? Well, he tried any shit, Owen had a bullet for him. He'd had quite enough of being bullied around, thank you.

"I want to apologize," the elf said suddenly. Apparently, he'd gotten used to the 'magic horseless carriage' and even relaxed in his seat some.

"Wot, about threatening to kill me?"

"_Si._ You saved my friend's life, and for that I am eternally grateful." He sounded frank and sincere.

"Would you have, if he didn't make it?"

"Hm. Probably." Zevran shifted uncomfortably. "I was... rather distraught. Though in hindsight, it would have been more practical to attack that thing that killed him."

"It would have killed you too, if you'd tried it."

"Yes, that is the point."

Owen gaped at him a second. Then Tosh called him over the comm, and he flicked it to transmit as he put his eyes back on the road. "Yeah, I'm here."

"_I'm getting reports of people collapsing at Summerside Mall. Local PD and security are trying to run down a naked man with a blowgun._"

"Sounds right up our alley. We can be there in about ten." Owen jammed down on the accelerator.

"_I'll try to find out which entrance by the time you arrive._"

===#===

"It's a personal safety device," Ianto told Bannon. The elf kept fiddling with the seatbelt. "You need to leave it on in case of sudden imp- DAMN!" He slammed on the brakes, and both men were pitched forward only to be brought up short by the restraints. Outside the windscreen, a golden horse with a dark-skinned rider galloped past, barely turning aside in time to avoid the front fender.

"That looked like a Native American," Ianto noted. He flinched a moment later as shots rang out behind them. Three men in military blue galloped past. "And let's just hope that wasn't General George Custer."

"Who?"

Ianto stepped on the gas and cranked the wheel over to follow them. "Never mind." He reached for the tranquilizer gun on the floor and handed it to the elf. "Tell me you have some clue how to use that."

Bannon turned the object over in his hands a moment. "Looks like a crossbow."

"Good! Works just like one. Point it and pull the trigger. Open the window, first!"

Confused as to how to accomplish that, Bannon pushed his hands against the windscreen, the passenger window...

"Press the button!"

"Button?"

Ianto swerved onto a one-way street and laid on the horn as he went the wrong way. "The rocker!"

"Huh?"

"The- Out of the way! Bloody Welsh drivers." He hit the horn and the brakes and jinked around the oncoming car. "Can't you see the cowboys and Indians running down the street?"

The horses cut down an alley and Ianto followed doggedly. "That," he said, taking one hand off the wheel a moment to point. "Put your fingers there and press."

The elf did so. Nothing happened.

Ianto continued veering down the alley and clipping every single garbage bin. "Press the other way."

"Oh!"

A horse whinnied, and Ianto slammed on the brakes again. The cowboys and Indians- that is, the Native Americans and Cavalry- galloped back down the alley towards them. Shots rang out. "Get down!" Ianto yelled, just as a bullet smashed a hole in the windscreen.

"Shit!" Bannon yelled, ducking.

Ianto silently agreed. The horses thundered past and he got up, put the car in reverse, braced one hand on the back of the passenger seat, then started backing up the alley after them. "Lean out the window and shoot." The fallen bins got another drubbing.

"I can't reach with this thing on."

"Take your seatbelt off!"

"And get tossed around? I've seen the way you steer this thing!"

"You've never even seen a car in your life; you can't possibly be complaining about my driving!"

===#===

Owen jumped the convertible up onto the mall sidewalk, squashing a decorative bush with the front wheel. He leapt out as a security woman ran up.

"You can't park there!"

"Torchwood," he said, flashing his ID and running past. Though he was going to have to start barking 'Bloody Torchwood,' to save people the trouble. A crowd clustered around a fallen figure. "Let me through! I'm a doctor."

He dropped to his knees beside a rotund woman in a teal jumpsuit. A young black man was giving her mouth-to-mouth. Owen pressed his fingers to her neck- and pulled back a tufted dart. Some naked guy, huh? "It's probably curare," he said. He looked at the young man. "Keep doing that until the EMT's arrive. Make sure they get this." He pinned the dart through a fold in the woman's clothes. "You're going to be fine, sweetheart; just hang in there a little longer."

"I thought you were the EMT!" the man said in desperation.

"No, I'm Torchwood." He reached into his jacket and pulled out the dart gun. People gasped and baked away. "Did anybody see which way the attacker went?"

Shouts rang out from the mezzanine, followed by shrill screams. "Never mind." He slipped past the gawkers and sprinted for the escalator. He caught sight of Zevran just behind him. The elf had managed to get himself out of the car. Owen hoped the seatbelt was intact.

They pounded up the escalator. People milled about in panic "Who's hurt?" Owen yelled.

"Over here!"

Owen pushed roughly past the idiots who didn't know a good time to evacuate if it hit them in the arse. "Out of the way!" He came upon a young cop cradling his older partner.

"Pritchard, wake up!" The kid patted the bristly cheek. "He-he just collapsed," he told Owen in a panic.

"All right, calm down, mate. He's only paralyzed- temporarily," he added hastily. "You just need to give him mouth-to-mouth a few minutes 'til the EMT's get here."

"But-"

"Don't they teach you emergency first aid at the bloody academy?"

"But-"

"Lay him out flat. Pinch his nose, put your mouth over his, and blow air into his lungs. And before you finish whatever comes after 'but,' keep in mind he's only paralysed, not unconscious. You want to save his life, do it now!"

The rookie shut up and did it. Owen watched only long enough to make sure Pritchard's chest was rising, then he tried to spy the jungle hunter through the press of gawkers. There was another shrill scream. This time, Owen saw the victim as she collapsed; she was holding a baby. Owen raced forward, his heart in his mouth, imagining he could hear the crack of an infant skull on the floor. The following wail was loud and healthy, at least.

There were more screams from the next escalator. Owen saw a flash of bare skin fleeing downward, people throwing themselves wide. "Zevran, get him!"

"As you like." The elf darted towards the edge of the mezzanine and leapt over the rail. Owen hoped he didn't break his legs, but was more concerned with explaining simple first aid again and setting the tranq gun down so he could examine the baby.

===#===

Jack hit the brakes. This time, Gwen was already braced. "Tell me I didn't just imagine that."

"What?" she growled, already knowing where this was going.

"A bunch of very buff guys wearing nothing but feathers and body paint." He wagged his brows at her and turned the SUV in pursuit. "Come on, you like that. Admit it!"

"Did you perhaps fail to notice the long spears they were armed with?"

"Mm!"

That did it. No matter what age he looked, or how many years he'd been immortal, he was perpetually seventeen years old. "Let's try to concentrate on work, here, before you manage to become even more politically incorrect, shall we?"

"Yes, Mom," he griped. See!

They followed the temporal trail until they hit a snarl of traffic where a gaggle of young mums with strollers were screaming and shouting, and fleeing from a playground. Jack and Gwen got out of the SUV and navigated against the tide. They found a foot patrolman at the gate, trying to placate some of the hysterical women.

"What's going on in there?" Gwen asked in her authoritative voice. She flashed her Torchwood ident badge.

"Bloody gay menace," the patrolman spit. "Botherin' decent folk. There's small children here, for God's sake."

Jack bristled. "Just being gay doesn't make someone a menace to society. Besides, who said they were gay?"

"What? No." The man shook his head. "Not gays; the Gay Menace. Local gang around here, always stirring up trouble. 'Demonstrating,' they call it, but it's just a bloody excuse to get locked up for indecency."

"Oh."

"I've already called for backup."

Gwen told him, "When they get here, have them secure the perimeter. We'll handle these people."

"Sorry, what authority was that again?"

"We're Torchwood."

===#===

"What in tarnation do you fellers think you're doin'?" the cavalryman said in a deep American accent. Bannon was trying to manacle him while Ianto bent over the Native American, trying to stop the bleeding where he'd been shot. "You stupid limeys! This is the Yoo-nited States of America; you cain't do this to me!" He yanked away from Bannon, but the elf yanked him right back and got the cuffs on his wrists. He shoved the American down onto his knees.

"I need some bandages," Ianto said. "Cut some strips off his shirt."

"You ain't shredding my uniform for no stinkin' redskin!"

"And did you have to shoot his horse instead of him?"

"It worked, didn't it?" the elf replied. He picked up the tranquilizer rifle from where it leaned against the car.

"It would be nicer if he were unconscious," the Welshman gritted through his teeth. Ianto flinched as there came a sudden _CRACK!_

Bannon had clubbed the cavalryman with the butt of the rifle. The man collapsed, a cut on his temple oozing blood. "He's unconscious now." The elf set the rifle back down and pulled out a dagger. In short order, he had several strips of blue cloth for bandages.

Right, then. Elves didn't exactly have tender mercies, did they? Uncharitably, Ianto couldn't bring himself to feel too sorry for the prejudiced American. "Hold still," he said soothingly to his patient. "You're going to be all right." He didn't know if the young man understood him, but his tone was clear.

The boy- he didn't be more than fifteen or sixteen- looked past him, reaching out a hand. He spoke softly in a native dialect then went limp.

"Just hang in there, it's going to be all right." Ianto finished the first aid and sat back on his heels. He keyed his mic. "Owen, I need help; we have a subject with a gunshot wound."

It was several seconds before he got a reply. "_Call an ambulance, Tea-Boy; I'm busy._"

Ianto huffed in irritation and pulled out his phone. "See if you can get those three into the back seat," he told Bannon as he dialed 999. Then they'd need to contact Animal Control to pick up these horses...

===#===

"Well," Jack said, his hands up and his most charming 'please don't spear me to death' smile on his face; "four Zulu warriors by the seesaws. Big, dangerous, Zulus, with big dangerous spears. Hmm." He rolled his eyes right to look at the tranq gun in his hand. Hopefully, they didn't realize it might be dangerous. "I _think_ I'll need a couple of lucky ricochets."

_"Just keep them distracted, Jack; I'm on my way."_

He kept smiling, _very_ careful not to make any sudden moves. The spearmen eyed him, poised to strike. They muttered amongst themselves, deferring to the second on the right. Jack focused his attention on that man. "So... you guys look cold. I mean, Wales isn't exactly Africa, huh? Boy, I know how that is. Plucked out of your comfort zone and dropped somewhere else entirely, with a seriously inappropriate wardrobe." See? I'm just a harmless, friendly guy! Those dark eyes narrowed at him. "Hey, how about a joke? Stop me if you've heard this one before. Two Judoon and a Slitheen walk into a bar..."

===#===

Owen stood up too fast, and a wave of lightheadedness swept over him. He leaned on the mezzanine rail for a few seconds, catching his breath. The EMT's had finally arrived, and he could stop breathing for other people.

Below on the main concourse, uniformed PC's were cordoning off an area and pushing people back. Owen had to get down there before they hauled Zevran off in cuffs.

He pulled out his official ID for this one. "Release that man," he said, shoving his way amidst the cops. They gave him a round of surly glares. "I'm Dr. Harper of Torchwood. This man is under our protection."

"He just stabbed someone," a policewoman growled.

"Well, that someone was killing people left and right." Owen tugged at Zevran's arm. The PC didn't let go of the elf, and Owen glared at her. "You want my superiors talking to your superiors? Because I guarantee, we can get you on school-crossing guard duty for the rest of your life."

She snarled, but pulled out her key to uncuff the elf. "Bloody Torchwood," she hissed, not quite underbreath.

Owen dragged the elf back towards the car and make sure they cleared the crowds before snapping, "When I said 'get him,' I meant for you to apprehend him!"

Zevran just shrugged. "I'm an assassin. Is what I do." He didn't seem to care one whit about people's lives.

Owen gritted his teeth. He couldn't wait to shove these elf blokes into a Rift somewhere and get rid of them.

Zevran frowned at him, clearly sensing his ire. "What, did you prefer that he continue killing people?"

"No," the doctor admitted grudgingly. "Just get in the car."

They got back in the car, and Owen gunned the engine, spraying mulch out from the front tires. He turned the wheel and headed for the parking lot exit. "Tosh," he said into his comm; "We're clear at the mall. The target's dead."

"_Are you all right?_"

"We're fine. Where's our next rendezvous?"

===#===

Between Jack, Gwen, Ianto, and the elf Bannon, they got the four Zulu warriors and three cavalrymen into the Vault in short order. Owen and his elven partner, Zevran, were still out on call. There wasn't any time to stop for a break or any chit-chat. Toshiko had more emergencies for them to handle. They split up, and Ianto headed downtown.

===#===

A six-car pileup blocked the intersection at Derbyshire and Falk. Ianto braked hard and pulled halfway up onto the sidewalk. People from the cars and shops along both sides of the street bolted past.

Ianto peered through the windscreen at the dinosaur in the intersection. About the size of two lorries, it stood on massive hind legs, hunched forward in a hunting attitude. It turned this way and that, in apparent confusion.

Its tail arced through the air and collapsed a light pole on one corner. The traffic lights suspended overhead swung askew and knocked it in the shoulder. It warbled in consternation and clawed at the hanging wires.

It danced back, surprisingly agile for its size. When it kicked out at one of the abandoned cars, Ianto saw claws the size of a tire iron. "Forget Jurassic Park," he said. "It's allosaurus."

"What?" Bannon asked.

Ianto shook his head and keyed the comm. "It's at Derbyshire and Falk. It's 12 meters. Looks like thick skin, I don't know if the darts or even small arms fire will dent it."

"_Stay down,_" Jack's voice came over the comm. "_We're almost there._"

The elf was already out of the car and trotting across the street.

"What are you doing?" Ianto hissed after him, glaring out the cracked windscreen to see if the huge predator had noticed the movement. He didn't know how well it could hear, either.

"Weapons," the elf called back without concern. He disappeared into a shop across the way.

Muttering, Ianto got out and went after him. He froze halfway across the traffic island when he noticed the allosaurus peering in his direction. Its massive head wove back and forth as if judging distance.

It took another swipe at the wires hanging over its shoulders, then started forward. Ianto thought he should slowly edge towards the shops, but his legs had other ideas.

He ducked into the sporting goods store. There were still a few people in here; maybe they hadn't paid all that much attention to the accident down the street. A hefty, bearded shopkeeper was arguing with Bannon.

"That's the stupidest prank I ever heard, kid. Now get out of my shop."

"I'm telling you, you need to evacuate everyone out the back!"

"And why do you think we're going to listen to you?"

Ianto fished his ident out. "Because we're Torchwood," he said with as much authoritative force as he could muster. "Do as this man says."

The clerk and the other folks just stared at him. What, they never heard of the secret organization? Grand! Next time, he'd have to try saying MI-5. Ignoring them for a moment, he keyed his comm. "It's heading north on Derbyshire."

"_We'll be right there._"

Well, nobody had moved yet. They just stared at him. Then the shop dimmed a bit as something blocked the light from the front windows. Something big.

Ianto didn't dare move. The way their eyes widened as they looked past him could be comical if he wasn't so worried about getting eaten. The long shadow slowly slid past. "Please make your way to the back exist in an orderly fash-"

"It's Godzilla!" Someone screamed, and they all boiled out through the stockroom.

"That's actually an allosaur," Ianto said to no one in particular. "And it's 'Gojira,' you idiot." He crossed to the display cabinets where Bannon was. "You didn't ask him to leave his keys?"

"It's open." The elf slid the security glass aside and grabbed one of the compound bows. He lifted it and drew it back to his ear with startling ease. He discarded that bow and the next, but grinned as he tested the third, a monstrosity of pulleys and cables housed in a fancifully shaped cowl with red-stained wood and inlaid dragon carving. He snatched a quiver of arrows and headed for the door.

Ianto considered leaving some form of payment, but when Bannon opened the door, he caught the sound of small arms fire. He ran out after the elf.

===#===

The large dinosaur nosed the black SUV it found across its path. Jack and Gwen had bailed out and regrouped beside a parked car. Gwen peppered the dinosaur's thick hide with bullets. "You think I'm annoying it any?"

"I could say something to that, but I don't want to get shot."

Gwen shot him a murderous glare anyway. Jack took careful aim at the dinosaur's head, trying for a soft spot. He fired, and the creature reared back and looked over its shoulder. One point for keeping it from destroying the SUV... now to keep it from killing them.

Its claws gouged the blacktop as it turned and charged at them. Jack and Gwen fired at its head, hoping to deter it, or possibly score a fatal hit through an eye socket. Jack grabbed Gwen and flung her back. "Get to the trunk!" If he could just distract the thing, possibly by getting stuck in its teeth...

It pounced, flattening the car roof with its front claws. Its maw gaped above Jack, but he needed to reload his revolver.

Suddenly, the beast reared back with a squeal. Something whistled through the air and the raptor's eye founted blood. Were those arrows? A fletched shaft sank into the tender corner of the allosaur's mouth.

Jack and Gwen turned to look. Yes, there was an elf standing on an abandoned car, with a huge bow in his hands. Ianto ducked around behind him and began making his way towards them.

The dinosaur whirled and pushed off the car, racing with fearsome swiftness towards its new target. Bannon shouldered the bow and leaped _forward_. Clearly, the allosaurus wasn't expecting that and overshot its mark as the elf tucked into a roll beneath it, the bow and swords clattering against the pavement.

Bannon came up in a crouch, pulled one sword from his back, grabbed it in both hands, and swung it like a baseball bat at the allosaur's ankle. The blade bit through the tough hide and the tendon. The beast screeched and half-collapsed. It tried to get up, but its one leg wouldn't hold its weight.

Jack lost sight of the elf as the huge beast struggled frantically. Its tail lashed down and dented the front fender of the SUV. Jack cursed underbreath and packed more bullets into his Webley. He looked to see how he might possibly help keep the elf from being bitten in half.

The raptor snaked its head back and forth, trying to spy its small but dangerous opponent. It heaved itself halfway around, and Jack, Gwen, and Ianto had to duck the tail whipping overhead. They bolted back towards the SUV, but halted as they heard Bannon shout.

"Here! Here!" The elf leapt atop another parked SUV and waved to get the monster's attention. Was he out of his mind? The predator fixed him with its good eye and drew back to strike like a serpent.

Just then, something blond streaked past Jack. The other elf, Zevran, leapt at the dinosaur, a sword in each hand. One blade, then the other, plunged into the creature's chest as the elf used them to haul himself further up.

The three Torchwood operatives backed up as the allosaurus started thrashing, but couldn't take their eyes off the scene. Zevran rode the beast's neck and managed to reach its throat. Blood fountained from under its jaw, and it finally collapsed.

The elf leapt free, hit the street, tucked into a roll, and then bounced to his feet near the humans. He twirled his swords overhead and snapped them down sharply, flicking arcs of blood drops across the pavement. "We," he crowed as he expertly sheathed his weapons on his back, "are ridiculously awesome!" He grinned cockily at the Torchwood team, who just continued to stare, flabbergasted.

Jack turned to Gwen. "I told you they'd come in handy."

Bannon came strolling around the dinosaur's body, examining an arrow he'd pulled from it. Zevran turned to him. "Did you see that? I got one!"

"It's a little small," the other elf said, completely unimpressed.

"Small!" The blond elf sputtered. "S-s-_small!?_"

"It doesn't even have wings."

At that, Zevran started spitting a string of incomprehensible invectives. He kicked little bits of gravel and litter in Bannon's general direction in a fit of pique.

"Check this out," Bannon said, still calmly ignoring the raving elf. He held an arrow shaft by the back tip; the whole length of it as dripping with blood and gore.

"Where did you get _that?_" Zevran practically leapt on the other elf, skipping around behind Bannon to caress the long curves of the bow. He stared at it with unmasked envy.

"Ah, we went shopping," Bannon told him.

"Ooh!" Zevran shoved himself off Bannon, nearly knocking him over as he sprang at Ianto. He landed uncomfortably close to the Welshman. "I'm in love!" He stared in unstifled lust. Ianto cringed back while trying to look as if he weren't. Zevran suddenly turned back to Bannon. "Hey, you want to trade? He's no fun."

The elf waved at Owen, who had come around the dented SUV with his med bag. He took the scene in with a glance, and his momentary look of naked concern vanished to be replaced with one of pure ire. He shot a look from Zevran to Bannon. "You're the one who doesn't like blokes, right?"

"Yeah." Bannon was still examining his arrow.

"Can you keep your mouth shut for more than two minutes at a time?"

Instead of answering out loud, Bannon just shrugged and nodded.

"Brilliant!" Owen said. "Ianto, he's all yours." He waved carelessly at the other elf and headed back to his car. Bannon followed.

Zevran turned to Ianto with a lusty smile. "I'm yours," he purred.

Ianto cringed again. "Brilliant," he managed.

Gwen turned to Jack. "Well, brilliant," she repeated with a cheeky grin.

Jack grinned back and said, "All right, back to work!" He and the policewoman headed for the SUV.

===#===

Ianto had to distract the _very_ bisexual elf by getting him a bow and arrows. Then they returned to his car, still parked a quarter of the way onto the sidewalk in front of the clock shop. He got in. Zevran got the door handle worked out and sat in the passenger seat.

Ianto groaned.

"What?"

"Nothing," Ianto said as he turned the key. Only he'd worked out another reason Owen had dumped the elf on him. It'd take a miracle to get the bloodstains from his armor out of the interior upholstery.

===#===

Toshiko returned to her station quickly. It seemed they weren't going to get a chance to breathe today. Jack's voice came over the comm. "_Tosh, we're here, but there doesn't seem to be any unusual activity._"

"Hang on, let me see if the CCTV picked anything up." She navigated the system network, following the path to the linkups with the proper cameras. Her keyboard clicked in rapid fire as she punched in the exact time the Rift alarm had triggered on Bolton street. She found the segment where the Rift flash had whited-out the screen, but there was no sign of movement.

Suddenly, the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Tosh felt a presence in the empty Hub and whirled around.

"_Toshiko-chan._"

"_Okaasan?_" It was completely incongruous, utterly impossible, but that was her mother standing right there. Toshiko's mind swiftly processed the raw data; it was her mother, there was no mistaking her. She was injured; blood ran from a gash in her forehead, just like the last time Toshiko had seen her. And those were the same clothes as that night. An icy hand of fear began to grip her heart. "What? _Okassan_, I didn't hear you."

"Please, daughter, you must open the Rift," her mother told her in Japanese. "I am trapped here, with so many souls. Please, set us free!"

"No! No, _Okasaan_; you can't be dead!" Captain Jack Harkness had told her she must never see her family again, but he'd relented after he'd gotten Tosh out of UNIT custody. He'd let her send postcards a few times a year. Had he lied? Had her mother been dead all this time? The apparition vanished. "_Okassan!_"

"_Tosh!_" The captain's voice was harsh in her earpiece. "_Did you find anything yet?_"

"N-No," she said, keying her mic. "There's no movement, let me rewind." She played back the tape, forward and backward, fast and slow, both before and after the flash. Then it clicked. "There's a rubbish bin. The one right under the light pole. It isn't there before the Rift opened, then it is."

She could hear the amusement in Gwen and Jack's voices over the comms.

"_So... what? The Rift picked up the trash from next week and deposited it on the curb?_"

"_If we're lucky._"

"_And if we're not lucky?_"

"_Then we're going to need the really big guns._"

They clicked off, and Toshiko took another look around the Hub. There was no sign of any apparition. She rolled her chair to the other workstation to bring up the Hub monitors. She saw herself on the recordings, speaking to thin air. Her mother was not there, but there was a blip in one of the frames. Some static. What if the monitors couldn't detect ghosts?

She had to think rationally. Once you eliminated the impossible, what ever was left, no matter how improbable, was the answer. Only this was Torchwood, so 'impossible' and 'improbable' had a different array of meanings. It was possible she'd imagined the whole encounter. It was also possible she'd seen the spectre of her mother. She never got any letters or postcards in the return mail. She honestly could not say for sure that her mother was not dead.

Tosh returned to her workstation and brought up a new search window. She started keying in her mother's information.

===#===

Wind whistled through the bulletholes in the windshield as Ianto accellerated. His partner Zevran shut up for a while, gazing wide-eyed as the landscape flew past the car. It didn't last long, however. The elf seemed to like nothing better than to hear his own voice.

"This seems rather different from your duties as jailer."

"I'm not a jailer," Ianto replied patiently. "And that's not a jail. The Vault is just a secure holding facility..." He trailed off when he realized the irony of that explanation.

"Is not a vault where you keep treasure? That is not a vault, but a dungeon."

"We call it the Vault, because..." Because it sounds better than 'the dungeon'? "Because it is secure," Ianto finished lamely.

Zevran scoffed. "Trust me, I've been in dungeons. Yours is the absolute worst."

"It's not made for long-term housing."

"But is what you do, no? Hunt down these people and put them in your... 'Vault.'"

"In the case of dangerous species, yes," Ianto explained. "But we don't necessarily do that. We try to help people. Out of curiosity," he asked, glancing at his passenger, "why were you and your friend tranquilized when they brought you in?"

"Oh. That was a complete misunderstanding." Zevran waved it off carelessly.

"Did you attack them?" From what Ianto had seen, the elves were more than capable of it.

"Certainly not!" the elf said. "Uhm... it seems one of your women took exception to me sneaking up behind your captain with a dagger."

"Why were you sneaking up behind him with a dagger?" Ianto shot him another glance, this one laced with worry. What had he gotten himself into?

"To keep things honest! Hey, we did not know you. He could have been lying about being there to help us. But-" he shrugged- "he sounded reasonable so far. I thought Bannon was about to agree to go with him, but then that woman - she must have shot me with the poison dart. Do you know which one of your women that was, by the way?"

"Uh, no," Ianto lied, worried that the elf was contemplating retribution.

He didn't seem concerned, though. "Well, the next thing I know, I'm in a dungeon with a headache. If you're not a jailer, what is it you do?"

"I'm the Office Manager."

"Office... manager." Zevran rolled the words around on his tongue as if tasting their worth. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"I generally look after the Hub... clean up after everyone... make sure things run smoothly... fetch the food, make the coffee..." Ianto sighed. "All right, fine; I'm the Office Manager because it sounds better than butler, janitor, dogs-body, or tea-boy."

"Ah ha. So the Office Manager of the Vault is really the servant mopping up the dungeon?"

Ianto groaned. "When you say it like that, of course it sounds bad. And I'm not a servant. I'm... part of the staff."

"The serving staff?"

"No, the agents of Torchwood." He'd graduated to field work, hadn't he? "I'm also the Archivist."

"A servant and a librarian?"

The elf was far too canny. Ianto changed the subject. "Well what is your job, back where you come from?"

"I am an assassin," Zevran asserted proudly.

"Really?" The Welshman's stomach did a slow barrel roll. "That explains the sneaking up behind people with knives."

"Indeed. I am, in fact, an Antivan Crow - the best Crow assassin there ever was, actually."

"Uh huh." It sounded as if they were a gang of self-aggrandizing braggarts.

"If you knew who the Antivan Crows were, you would be mightily impressed."

Ianto muttered, "I doubt that."

"Hmph."

===#===

Search Blocked.

"Dammit!" Toshiko would have to go into the low-level subroutines of the Torchwood computer system to circumvent the blocks Jack had placed on the information about her mother. She started hacking into the admin account.

"_Tosh!_" She nearly leapt out of her chair as the captain's voice rang over the comm. "_We've secured the trash. It seems inert, so earmark it for examination later. What's our next target?_"

"Um... just a sec." She tabbed through her open programs to bring up the Rift monitor. "Disturbance at the Cardiff Country Club."

"_That's out near where Owen is, isn't it? We're covering the south side._"

"Right, sorry. Police requesting assistance in the warehouse district." She relayed the address to Jack.

"_Is everything all right there?_" Gwen asked.

"Yes. It's just..."

"_One hell of a day, yeah?_"

"Yeah."

"_Steady on, Tosh,_" Jack told her. "_One thing at a time; we'll get through it._"

"Right." She clicked over to the other channel. "Owen? What's your status?"

"_Well, I've scanned at least three dozen of these little black boxes; there's nothing. They're just all over the damned place. I mean, everywhere!_"

"You don't think they're dangerous?"

"_We won't know until we can crack one open, will we? For now, they seem to be just ordinary plastic boxes. I've got Santa's Little Helper here bagging up as many as he can, but there's just too many. Can you get some kind of trash removal crew out here?_"

"Do you want a hazmat team?"

"_I can't justify pulling them off anything more clearly dangerous._"

"All right, I'll call the Sanitation Department." Tosh typed in the instructions for the Rift-trash, then pulled up the phone listings for Cardiff Civil Services. "There's a disturbance at Cardiff Country Club you need to check out next."

"_Will do._"

===#===

When they got to the nursery, the harried manager informed Ianto that a giant snake had invaded. Ianto didn't care for snakes, but he had a job to do. Zevran didn't seem bothered by the notion. After all, he'd slain a dragon. A giant snake could only be a step down. Ianto gave him a quick course on the operation of a crossbow without a cross or a bow, which Zevran picked up rather quickly. Still, he refused to part with his blades, or his brand new bow.

"It's just a frightened animal," Ianto insisted. "Or even a sentient species. We don't need to kill it."

Zevran just shrugged with an infuriatingly careless air.

The two men entered the evacuated greenhouse, tranq rifles at the ready. Ianto was glad he didn't have his jacket on, when the humid air enveloped them. He nodded his head to the right, to indicate to the elf to split up. Zevran shook his head. Gesturing with two fingers, he indicated Ianto should keep an eye low while Zevran kept watch above. One glance at the taller plants overhead convinced Ianto that this was a better idea.

Slowly, they stalked deeper into the regimented jungle of greenery. Ianto let Zevran take a slight lead, as the elf seemed to know what he was doing. He led them in a grid-pattern search, his boots silent upon the concrete flooring. Ianto tried to imitate his stealth, but had to be glad snakes were deaf.

They neared the center of the greenhouse, and Ianto wondered how 'giant' this giant snake was, if they hadn't seen a trace of it yet. Then he found out; he saw part of a green coil around a table, thick as a barrel and with neither head nor tail in sight. He hissed a warning and pointed it out to Zevran.

The elf narrowed his eyes at the coil, then craned his neck, trying to see where it led. Ianto just brought the rifle to his shoulder.

"That is not a good place to shoot it," Zevran whispered in warning.

"The tranq will work just fine there." It was fast acting and strong. Ianto planned to use two shots, just to be sure it was enough for the huge creature. He sighted and fired. The dart skipped off the shiny green scales.

Zevran gamely took a shot with the same results. The coil began to move, the scales rasping along the floor as the creature slithered around. A wedge-shaped head the size of a shopping cart thrust its way through the plants.

"Oh shit."

===#===

"For the last time," Jack yelled in Galactic Standard; "This is not Arcadia IV! And we're not-" He ducked instinctively as molten metal bolts splashed brightly against the concrete wall near his head.

"_Sorchka, Paxcor poodoo!_"

"Oh, of course," Jack griped, "you just _couldn't_ be mining there legally, could you?"

"_Keep them busy, Jack,_" Gwen's voice came over the comm. "_Just another thirty seconds._"

"If you see a really big one, shoot it before you do anything," he warned her. He'd spotted at least half a dozen of the orange-furred Urdrin miners. The child-sized creatures weren't much more dangerous than a human, but if they had one of the big hunters with them... The bolt-fire let up, and he yelled around the corner again. "We're Torchwood, not Pax-Corps! You've fallen through a Rift in the Space-Time Continuum. Torchwood will help you return to your proper-"

"_Tryzwimmit!_"

"Well, how rude."

"_Dropping the cannister, Jack. In three... two... one!_"

He waited a beat and a half for the pacification gas to start to work - but not long enough for the quick reflexes of the felinoids to react to the threat - then he twisted out from cover and ran forward, recklessly charging the Urdrin's position with the tranq rifle.

===#===

The serpent arose, its body thick as the trunk of a tree, its wide head crowned with a crest of rainbow feathers. It bent over Ianto as he stood frozen in primal fear. _I am Shining Jade Rain,_ the whisper thundered through Ianto's mind. _God of the Green Forest, Guardian of the Canopy, Master of the Emerald Wind._ He stared into its luminous jade eyes, unable to look away. The large moonstone embedded in its brow flared as it raised its crest and spread its wings in a rainbow arc. _WORSHIP ME._

Ianto felt a powerful emotion sweep over him, of equal parts love and awe. Later, he imagined it was what religious fervor might be like, but until now, he'd never felt anything like it in his life. The pure, clear love wrapped him in a sheltering cocoon. He slowly dropped to his knees, barely feeling them touch the concrete flooring, only vaguely aware of the elf kneeling beside him, head bowed.

The feathered serpent's scales gleamed like polished gemstones, in a thousand shades of green; the moonstone glowed with soft silvery light; sunshine cascaded down through the iridescent feathers. He wept to behold such beauty. _Oh, magnificence; oh, splendor._ Words formed of their own volition in his mind. _Lord of the Air. God of the Trees. I am yours._ Euphoria washed over him as he opened his arms and leaned back, his heart yearning to be closer to this God. _Take me. Consume me._

The serpent's jaw dropped open as it lowered its head towards him.

===#===

"_Jack, we have a problem._"

Owen's voice came over the comm as Jack and Gwen were stacking the last Urdrin miner into the truck. "Everybody's got a problem," he grunted.

"_We have a rhino with a big gun pointed at us, and he doesn't speak a word of English._"

Jack keyed the comm. "Just put your hands up and don't make any sudden moves."

"_Oh, genius, that,_" the doctor snarked back. "_What do you think we're doing?_"

The captain rolled his eyes and restrained a sigh. "He's a cop, he won't shoot you without provocation. Tell him: _Ragubash zchingbazz nach-ookla paing._"

"_Ragbash... what?_"

"What's he _saying_, Owen?"

"_'Ooga-chooga'- I don't know! It sure as hell ain't 'May the Force be with you,' and that's about it for me in galacto-speak._"

"Oh, for-!" Jack fished his mobile out of his pocket while Gwen looked on in equal parts concern and amusement. "Get your phone and put him on," he said as he punched Owen's speed-dial. "I'll talk to him."

===#===

Owen's phone started trilling and the rhino-cop jerked the miniature cannon in his direction. "_Charck!_"

"Whoa, easy! It's just me phone, mate. You know? Talky-talky?" He extended thumb and pinky and mimed a telephone receiver. The rhino narrowed its eyes suspiciously and growled something else. Hopefully that was meant to be encouraging. Owen very slowly pulled the phone from its holster and thumbed the 'answer' button. It beeped, and the rhino tensed, showing it's teeth. "It's all right," Owen said slowly, reassuringly. "It's not a weapon. Look-" he held the phone up to his ear- "talky-talky. See? It's for you." He held the phone out.

The rhino-cop came closer, then jerked its gun towards Bannon. "_Gruk!_" The damned elf was trying to edge away from Owen again. The rhino-cop motioned them back together with its rifle.

"Stop doing that," Owen hissed at the elf. "You want to get us killed?"

Bannon kept a cheery disarming smile on his face. "If you would distract him better," he said, his lips barely moving, "I could get behind him and-"

"And get _me_ killed, no thank you very much."

The elf snorted, and both of them stood with their hands up, watching the rhino holding the mobile alternately up to its ears at the top of its knobby head and to its snout as it conversed with the captain. To its credit, the gun never wavered.

"_Ruusk!_" the rhino coughed at last. It snapped its gun upright and handed the mobile back to Owen. With parade-drill precision, it powered down its weapon and held that out, too.

"_Owen,_" Jack said over the comm, "_he should surrender his weapon to you now._"

Bannon was already reaching for it, but the doctor smacked his hands away and took it. "Got it, Jack."

"_He respects your authority as local constabulary, and will do as you instruct._"

"Wait, what instruct? I don't speak-"

"_Honestly, Owen, you undervalue the effectiveness of pointing and gesturing._"

"You want him to just ride in the back seat?" Owen said quickly, sensing the captain trying to sign off. "I have a convertible!"

===#===

Jack climbed into the SUV's driver seat and shared a put-upon look with Gwen. "You're a big boy, Owen. I'm sure you can handle it." He clicked off the comm. "Oh, stop snickering."

"Me? Snicker?" Gwen said innocently. "Never!"

Jack's Galactic Standard was a little rusty, he mused as he hit the gas. Perhaps holding a class for his team was a good idea all around. That, and a few games of remedial charades for Owen. "Rational beings," he muttered. "That's what this world needs more of."

===#===

Owen frowned, then turned to Bannon. "All right, you're in charge of our friend here. Get him in the car." Big boy and handle _that_, Harkness!

The alien elf just shrugged. "Sure."

"_Owen, we have a Priority One call from St. Thomas hospital._"

"Oh, brilliant," the doctor grumbled. He keyed his comm. "On my way, Tosh."

===#===

It was fortunate, Ianto supposed, that the inside of a snake's mouth is not protected by scales. He sat sideways in his car, the door open, his feet on the ground. Zevran was cursing and struggling to haul the giant snake, coil by coil, through the greenhouse and into the car. Ianto didn't feel like helping him. Ianto, Ianto realized, felt very testy, like some sort of junkie suddenly cut off from his supply.

_That thing almost ate me._ It was just some kind of mind control, releasing endorphins into his brain. He should be able to just shake it off.

He should also be glad that the elf had the quick foresight to avoid looking into the snake's eyes. "Just like a bird, eh?" the far-too-jovial elf had said, slapping Ianto on the shoulder after the snake had collapsed. Ianto had wanted to rip his arm off. "Snakes, they hypnotize, _si?_"

At least Zevran stopped being so jovial as he grunted and sweated, manhandling the limp serpent along. He couldn't resist cracking phallic snake jokes, though. That was reason enough to let him suffer doing all the work.

Ianto rubbed his face and clicked his comms unit on to report in. "We've secured the serpent, Tosh. We're going to head in to drop it off."

"_Roger that, Ianto. Are you all right?_"

"Yes, fine. Is there anything else we need to handle?"

"_No, this storm seems to be passing out of our area._" Her voice was tinged with the same concern he had: what was the ripple effect going to do to the rest of the planet? Was there nothing Torchwood could do to stop it?

_You must open the Rift, fully, to release the pressure,_ Lisa had told him. _Or we will all be destroyed._ Ianto rubbed his forehead again. That was something Torchwood could do. But would they? _Should_ they? It wasn't up to him.

"Can't you hurry up with that?" Ianto snapped at the elf.

"If you want this to go faster," Zevran grunted, his accent deepening, "you could help!"

Ianto looked at the snake and shuddered. He couldn't bring himself to touch it. "I can't."

"Well," Zevran huffed, "you'll have to wait, then. But next time you can carry the beast while I sit! I am not your elven servant."

===#===

When they got to the hospital, Owen parked crookedly in the obscurest corner of the carpark that was closest to the elevator. "You two stay here," he said, glancing at both aliens. To Bannon he added, "Don't get out of the car. Don't touch anything." He grabbed his bag and trotted to a portal that slid open and swallowed him up. The elf and the monster craned their necks to watch him go.

"_Gru Khan?_" the monster in the back seat asked.

The elf shrugged. He unclipped the safety harness and jumped out over the side of the wagon. "Stay here," he said to the creature, pantomiming along with his words. "Don't get out of the coach. Don't touch anything."

The monster sat even more upright and even more stiffly. If it had horns on its head instead of on its nose, it could have been a qunari. Come to think of it, they were probably related. Dwarf qunari, Bannon mused.

He paced around a bit to stretch his legs. This building - a coach house? - was huge. There seemed to be an endless number of coaches stored here, of all sizes and colours. He couldn't begin to imagine how many nobles were in this place. And what if they all wanted to go somewhere at once?

He got the impression that his city might be even bigger than Denerim. In many places, the buildings towered higher than they did back home. Many, like this building, were larger than the castle. In some places, it looked like dozens of Fort Drakons side by side, row by row. How many people lived in this city? And where did food come from, to feed them all?

He wondered where the alienage was, and if it were huge as well. He hadn't seen any elves while he'd been running around with these Torchwood people, so he surmised that they still lived in segregation, employed only in the lowest menial tasks. Or, he supposed he could be optimistic and believe the elves still had their own separate kingdom. Everything else in this world was so different, why not? Anything could be possible.

Thinking about elves brought his mind around to his family. What would they think when they heard he'd disappeared? Would they worry? Or just be relieved? Bitterness flooded him.

He couldn't dwell on that, He had to focus on the here and now. Once these people got the tears in the Veil under control, they could send him and Bannon back home. There always seemed to be something he had to put in front of his own concerns, his own personal life. But Zevran was right. There was no use dwelling on things that were impossible to know or even influence.

He returned to the wagon. The creature was still sitting at attention. As Bannon hopped

back into the seat, his leg knocked against a latch, and a small compartment popped open. A pile of papers and packets spilled out onto his lap and the floor. He sifted through them, looking for coins, but was disappointed.

The white and pink slips of paper were boring, just a lot of staid writing on them in excessively regimented hand. There were some colourful folded packets with decorative lettering: "Angelo's," "Tizzy's," "Bar Reunion," "Paradise Island," "The Boarhound" - that one had a picture of a bristling dog head, too. And one simply labeled "XXX," with some squiggles in blue and pink. Bannon recognized the shapely outline of a woman's leg, the curve of a breast and hip.

He flipped open the packet; inside was a double row of small grey strips with rounded red heads. There were also some numbers scribbled on the plain inside of the card, and the word "Amber." It was a very long number; that must be a lot of amber. Bannon liked the picture, so he tucked the folded card into a belt pouch.

He shoved a handful of papers back into the compartment. A good number just fell out again. As he reached down, his foot hit a little solid tube, to which he diverted his attention.

It was a plain, matte black; one end flared wider. Bannon rolled it in his fingers and found only a small round bump marring the surface. He prodded the bump, and light flared from the end of the tube. He almost dropped it, fearing he'd set something on fire. But no, it wasn't firelight, it was pure white. Some sort of mage light. He pointed it at the stone wall outside the coach. The wall didn't disintegrate. Hesitantly, Bannon played the light over the interior of the coach. Again, nothing combusted. With trepidation, he moved his hand closer to where the light was coming out. He felt no heat whatsoever. He waved his hand in front of the light, then chuckled in delight. A cold magic torch!

Bannon experimentally thumbed the bump on it again, and it doused itself. Just to make sure he hadn't used up all the magic, he clicked the button several times, grinning like a child as the light came and went at his command. He tucked the magic torch away in his main belt pouch. Zevran would be impressed!

"_Garruda murkle phoo,_" the monster in the backseat grumped.

"Hey, what he doesn't know won't hurt him," Bannon replied. He turned back to look at the creature. "You won't tell him, will you?"

The grey monster looked blank and shrugged.

"That's what I thought." Bannon glanced past the coach, towards the doors where the shem mage had disappeared. The monster followed his gaze. "Keep a look out, would you?" Bannon asked him conspiringly. "Let me know if he's coming back."

Again, Bannon grabbed a double-handful of the junk that had fallen on the floor and his lap, and shoved it back into the compartment. This time, some shiny square packets caught his eye. They contained some thin, round items. He flipped a few over. 'Grape,' he read, and 'Cherry.' Ah, it must be candy!

Bannon tore open a cherry candy packet. The candy wasn't brittle hard sugar like he'd expected. And it wasn't like soft candy when he bit down on it. It was... Bannon frowned as he worked his jaw. It was chewy, to be sure, but more like leather. It had a strong flavor, at least to start, more like a cherry brandy. But it wasn't sweet. He chewed on it a bit more, experimentally, then spit it out over the side of the coach when he realized he wasn't making any headway in dissolving it. He wrinkled his nose and decided he didn't like mage candy.

He shuffled through some more of the packets - perhaps Zevran might like to try it? - and then realized his mistake. One of them had the words 'Bubble Gum' on it. Clearly, it was some sort of magic spell that created a bubble of gummy substance, somewhat like the opposite of a grease spell - it would stick an opponent's feet fast.

His surmising was proven correct when he found one labeled 'Magic Fingers.' He would have preferred a stone fist, which Wynne used to great effect, but then he supposed the little packets couldn't contain such large spells. He wondered if they were merely spell components, or if they contained a full spell that could be activated by anyone. He slipped a few into his pouches. He and Zevran could experiment later.

===_X_===

* * *

_End Notes:_

"And it's 'Gojira,' you idiot."

- 500 Bloodsong Points if you know this line!


	4. Things Fall Apart

**Torchwood: Dragon Age Episode One "The End of Days"**

**Chapter 4: Things Fall Apart**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Drama

Language: bad

Violence: yes

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: none

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0

_Author's Notes:_

Turning and turning in the widening gyre  
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;  
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;  
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,  
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere  
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;  
The best lack all conviction, while the worst  
Are full of passionate intensity.

...

from "The Second Coming"  
by William Butler Yeats

Special thanks to Ventisquear for continuity checking.

* * *

**Things Fall Apart**

===#===

"You need to call in a tactical nuclear strike-" Jack paced behind his desk, trailing the phone cord. "Yes, I _do_ know how densely populated-! ...Look, unless you want all these people converted into an army that will wipe out everyone on this planet, you will use the tac-nukes. ...If you don't have the balls to do what needs to be done, I suggest you resign and find someone who does!" He threw the handset down so hard, it bounced partway off the cradle.

He leaned on the desk, one hand pressed hard to his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the muscle of his jaw twitched.

"Jack...?" Gwen approached his half-open door.

At the sound of her voice, he straightened, his face instantly clearing. A relaxed smile played over his lips. "What's up?" He nudged the phone straight.

"You need to hear this." Gwen pushed the door open and beckoned to the elf behind her. "Tell him what you told me, about how you got out of the Vault."

===#===

Tosh got up from her workstation and went to the kitchenette. Ianto looked up from the coffee machine. "Thanks for ordering in sandwiches, Tosh. I could just about murder one."

She smiled. "You would have done the same." He nodded in acknowledgement, then applied his focus to the machine for a minute. Tosh sobered. "Ianto, I need to talk to you about something."

He gave a dial a final adjustment, then turned his full attention to her. "What is it?"

"I had a... vision. I don't know why, or how..." She explained how she'd double-checked the surveillance videos. "I saw my mother. She told me I had to open the Rift, or the storms might tear the world apart."

Ianto pondered her words gravely. Lowering his voice, he said, "I saw Lisa. She told me the same thing."

Toshiko's eyes went wide. If Ianto had seen his deceased fiancee, that had to mean _Okasaan_ was dead, too. Didn't it? She blinked at the stinging sensation she felt in her eyes.

"Tosh, can you calculate the formula for opening the Rift, full bore?"

She nodded. "I have too many things running on my station. Can I use yours?"

"Of course."

===#===

Zevran came into the office and eyed the tall captain while Gwen closed the door. "Tell him how you got out of the Vault."

"The Vault?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "The 'dungeon.'"

"Oh, _si!_ There was a mage. He let us out."

Jack went on alert. "A mage? Who?"

Gwen nodded at the elf. "Tell him the description."

"Some old guy." Zevran shrugged. "Big head, no chin. Beady eyes. Wearing clothing like your janitor. Jailer. Whatever you call him."

"Ianto?"

"_Si_. Like him. Big yellow scarf around his neck."

Jack looked at Gwen. She nodded. "Sound familiar?"

"That guy at the club. In 1941."

"Bilis Manger," she confirmed.

Jack turned to Zevran. "Didn't Ianto see him?"

The elf shook his head. "He was talking to someone else."

"Who?"

Zevran shrugged.

"Okay, what exactly happened? And what did this 'mage' say?"

"He said he used to be the guardian of this Rift you have here, before you drove him out." Gwen quirked a brow at the captain, but he didn't seem to know what that meant, either. "He said we needed the Rift to be opened, that you know how to do that. He said if you open it, we can go home."

"It doesn't work like that," Jack told him precipitously. "How did you get out of the Vault?"

"We said we couldn't do anything stuck in the dungeon," he emphasized the word slightly. "He said there would be an opportunity to leave. We turned around, and there were our weapons. Then the lights went out and the doors opened."

"Bilis wants the Rift opened," Jack said. "He didn't get what he wanted the first time - he's trying again." His eyes lit up like a hunting cat on the scent. Gwen and Zevran got out of his way as he strode towards the door.

===#===

Toshiko logged in at Ianto's workstation and accessed her Rift programs from the network. "Should we ask Jack about this?" she asked hesitantly.

Jack seemed adamant about not opening the Rift. "I don't think-"

Just then, the captain's strident voice rang through the Hub. "Ianto! My office- now!"

They both jumped. Ianto grimaced. "Start the calculations," he told her. "I'll talk to him."

===#===

Jack leaned on the rail, looking down at his team. "Tosh," he called a little less loudly. I need you to locate Bilis Manger. Find out where he is, and even who he is, in this decade."

"I'll get on it," the tech said, not looking up from what she was doing.

"_Now!_" the captain snapped. "We don't have a whole lot of time, and it keeps getting shorter!"

Tosh pushed away from one workstation to turn to another. "I can only do ten things at once," she growled, mostly to herself.

Gwen put a hand on Jack's arm. "It's all right, Tosh," she called down. "I'll do it." She shot the captain a glance. "I'm not doing anything at the moment."

Jack pulled his arm away from her and turned, almost colliding with Zevran. "And take this elf with you. He shouldn't be wandering around unsupervised." He brushed past on his way to his office.

"He seems... rather uptight," Zevran commented when he and Gwen got to the bottom of the stairs.

"He's under a bit of a strain," Gwen told him. Judging by what she'd overheard in his office, that was a severe understatement.

===#===

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Jack looked up. Ianto stood in the doorway, straight and neat as a pin, as usual. Though a little more casually dressed, since he lost his tie and jacket to bloodstains this morning. He'd also done away with his vest and wore only a button-down shirt. "What's the status of the Vault?" Jack asked him, tipping his head to indicate for him to close the door.

Ianto did so. "The wounded appear to be stable. We've refilled the first level, and the new inmates are still sedated."

Jack watched his face as he reported. The young man had always been reserved, his smiles faint, his scowls little more than a tightening of the lips. He guarded his thoughts and feelings carefully, but Jack had been learning to read him. It was all in his eyes. Right now, he was a blank slate, waiting for his boss to tell him what he wanted. "Tell me what happened down there earlier today." Jack hardened his voice. "And the truth, this time."

A brief flare of surprise, perhaps tempered with anxiety, showed in the Welshman's eyes. It was quickly suppressed. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Zevran told me that Bilis was there, that he's the one who let them out." He saw Ianto blink, that was genuine surprise. "And you didn't see anything unusual before the lights cut out?" Jack prodded.

Ianto didn't answer right away. Was he contemplating lying again? Goddammit, had he lost that much faith in Jack in just a few hours? "I didn't see Bilis there," Ianto finally said.

"The elves saw you talking to someone." Jack clenched his fist but kept his voice level. "Who was it?"

Ianto lowered his eyes. "Lisa," he admitted.

Now Jack knew why he'd been reluctant to speak of it. "That's not possible."

"I know. That's... why I didn't mention it earlier. It just seemed..." He shrugged, his eyes still downcast.

Jack knew this must be painful for him, so he asked gently, "What did she say?" When no answer was forthcoming, he said, "Let me guess. She tried to convince you to open the Rift."

Ianto looked up, the answer clear on his face.

"It's a trick, Ianto. Bilis wants the Rift open for his own purposes."

Ianto's expression closed down again. Jack would give him some time to process the information. He trusted the young man would come to the right conclusion. Jack sat at his desk, dug around for his lost pen, then resumed writing out phrases on an index card. "When Owen comes in, I'd like you to take the Judoon to the Vault." He handed the card up to Ianto. "You'll need this."

He took it, looking at it in curiosity. "What's this?"

"Galactic Standard cheat-sheet," Jack told him with a grin.

===#===

Owen's hand's itched with the need to wash them again. _Plague. The Black Death._ He gripped the steering wheel harder and suppressed the impulse. He'd worn gloves. He'd scrubbed thoroughly before he'd left the hospital. There was no invisible evil miasma clinging to his skin. The Black Death had killed millions across Europe, but that had been back in the days of superstition and ignorance. These days, it was just a disease like any other. It could be treated, quarantined, contained. But the Rift could spit out anything from anywhere in time and space. What if some future, or alien, pathogen came through, something that made modern medicine look like superstition and ignorance? Forget rampaging dinos and rhinos with guns. There were things more insidious, more dangerous.

He pulled into the Torchwood garage and killed the engine. "Everybody out," he said to his alien passengers. He went around to the boot and shoved the bag of cubes aside to get his hands on the rhino's gun. "Grab that bag," he told the elf. Bannon gave him a dirty look, which he ignored. The elf didn't say anything, but shouldered the trash bag and beckoned to the rhino.

===#===

Ianto met them at the cog door. He held out his hand and started to politely ask for the weapon, but Owen just shoved it at him. "Where's Jack?"

"On the phone again, I believe."

Owen brushed past him.

Unperturbed, Ianto turned to the rhino cop. "_Migelekk bripp koo,_" he said in a clipped tone.

"_Sorcha phoo._" The rhino crossed its forearms over its chest and bowed.

Bannon slung his burden to the floor inside the doorway.

Ianto said, "Bring that along."

"Hey, just because I'm an elf doesn't make me your servant!"

"Please," Ianto added smoothly. "Thank you."

The elf huffed in annoyance, but picked up the bag again. Ianto consulted the card and said to the rhino, "_Morg taag._" Then he led the alien entourage off towards the Vault.

===#===

Owen crossed to the workstations, hoping Tosh had figured something out, but he was disappointed. There was a newsfeed up on one of the monitors. The Minister of Defense had declared a state of emergency.

"Oh, that's going to help," Owen griped. "What are you doing? Are we any closer to finding a solution?"

"We're trying to track down that manager from the club," Gwen supplied. "He seems to have something to do with all this."

"Club manager, great. We've got bigger problems."

"Like what?"

"When Jack gets here, we can discuss it." Owen couldn't help it; his eyes were drawn to the newscaster.

"_...are reassuring people that this is not the so-called End of Days._"

Owen snorted. "We can only hope."

Jack came down the spiral stairs. "I can guarantee you, the world is not about to end."

"Well, I'd like to hear your brilliant plan for saving it," Owen growled. "Because right now, the world is on a trip to Hell in a handbasket."

"We do our jobs," Jack said firmly. "We contain the threats."

"What containment? Fill up the Vault again? And then what will we do? Fire up the incinerators and nerve gas them this time?"

Jack's eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms defensively. "I don't think it will come to that. The Rift activity will settle down."

"You think? You can't know that." Owen ground his teeth, jutting his jaw forward. "We can't sit around here with our thumbs up our arses, waiting to play catch with whatever the Rift throws at us. I just came from the hospital, where there's an outbreak of the plague."

"The Black Death?" Gwen asked, fear tingeing her voice.

"The Black Death, bubonic plague. Anthrax, ebola..." Owen paced in agitation, wincing as his shoulder twinged. "The only reason it's contained - if you can call one ward of a hospital contained - is because the woman carrying it blundered into the emergency room. What happens if next time, Typhoid Mary pops into downtown London and takes a stroll down Oxford street?"

"Did you advise the hospital to prepare for these outbreaks?" Jack asked him.

"Of course I did. I put it on the wire - world-wide alert."

Jack shrugged. "Then what else is it you want to do about it?"

"I want to stop it before it happens! What if some disease from the future lands here? Something we've never seen before and have no way to counteract?"

"The hospitals will have to deal with it the best they can."

Owen ran one hand over his hair in frustration. Didn't Jack know how many people could suffer and die while the hospitals tried to 'deal with it'? "That's it? That's your plan?"

"What is it you want me to do?" Jack's voice grew hard.

"You're our leader! I expect you to lead us!"

"Then you need to follow my orders."

"Follow your orders? To keep playing this alien-roundup game for as long as these Rift storms last? That's like putting a plaster on a gaping wound!" Owen glanced around at the others. Toshiko hunched in her computer chair. Gwen had moved up closer to Owen, watching the discussion between the doctor and captain, a thoughtful frown on her face. Ianto had come up from the Vaults, though he could probably have heard the yelling from down there. That elf trailed him, but slipped around to join his blond companion. "You all believe this is a good plan?" Owen gave them all another look. "Seriously, this is the best we can do?"

"What if we open the Rift?" Toshiko asked quietly. "Ju-

Jack cut her off sharply. "No!"

"But-"

"_No._"

Ianto said, "What if the Rift didn't close properly when Owen opened it? Maybe opening the Rift, with the right equation, could-"

"You don't know a thing about it," the captain snarled at him.

Gwen stepped forward, attempting to quell the seething tension in the room. "It's only speculation. Isn't that what we're here for? To try to find a solution?"

Jack wasn't listening, not even to her. "You know all about it, don't you?" Owen said, facing him squarely. "Captain Jack Harkness, or whatever the hell your real name is, mister future spaceman - we don't know why you're here or what you're really up to."

"If you don't have faith in me, then you don't belong on this team." His eyes, like his tone, were ice.

"Jack-," Gwen tried, but he didn't even blink.

"Is that why you're really here?" Owen snapped. "Maybe this humanitarian bit is all an act. Maybe it's been your plan all along to let this happen. We don't even know if you're really human!"

"Owen!" Tosh gasped.

"Turn in your sidearm and keycard," Jack snarled.

Owen flinched back, blinking in shock. "That's it? The world is going to Hell, and you're going to _fire_ me?"

"If you can't follow my orders, you are finished here."

"Jack, please reconsider," Gwen said.

He turned on her. "Anyone else who feels the same can also leave."

Gwen dropped her eyes. Owen glanced at Toshiko, but no, she wouldn't look at him either. Ianto was loyal to the captain, of that there was no doubt.

"Son of a bitch," Owen swore.

"Sidearm. Keycard. Now."

He yanked his holster free and slapped it into the captain's waiting hand. The keycard followed.

"Dr. Owen Harper," Jack pronounced, the hardassed commander in charge; "you are relieved of duty at the Torchwood Institute. Ianto, escort him out."

"Yes, sir." Ianto stepped forward. At least he had the decency to look at Owen. He didn't push, but waited for the doctor to go ahead of him.

He looked around one last time, exhaled. "Well, it was nice knowing ya's," he sneered bitterly. "For as long as _that_ lasts."

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked quietly.

He turned to her. "Oh, didn't they tell you about your severance package?" She shook her head, not sure if he was joking or not. Oh, no. He was not. "No one leaves Torchwood," he explained. "If you die in service, your body gets filed away in a drawer downstairs. Might come in handy later, you know. Want to quit? Or you get fired? They just take your life away." He shot an evil look at Jack, who stood impassive. "Oh, he's a bit busy now, but someday soon he'll get me. Retcon. Erase the last four years of my life."

Owen ran his hands back through his hair. "Christ! One day I'll wake up thinking I still work at Mercy. I'll have no idea what kind of bender I went on to end up in fucking Wales! I'll drive back to London and make a total arse of myself, probably yell at the poor sod who I think took my parking space, then bitch at all the nurses about why the hell I'm not on the duty roster, until they call the psych ward. I'll end up in soft restraints until they can somehow convince me that I've blocked out four years of my life. Then some twat of a therapist will try to talk to me about it, try to unlock these lost memories - fat load of good that will do! I'll probably be in therapy the rest of my fucking life. _Christ!_ I'll have to mourn Katie all over again!"

"Are you finished?" Jack said, his voice hard.

"Yeah." Owen's eyes flicked over his former comrades. "Yeah, I guess I am. _Fuck!_" He turned his back on them and walked out, Ianto his silent escort.

===#===

Jack watched him go, churning inside with anger and regret. This is how it went. At first, you were different, interesting, funny. A little eccentric. The more they realized, the worse it got, good old human xenophobia. Until 'different' turned into 'inhuman.' Curiosity turned into mistrust, into hatred. He kept his expression neutral, his body stilled, not giving away anything of what he thought or felt inside.

He sensed Gwen wanted to talk to him, to argue. She was professional enough not to do it in front of the others. But he would hear about it. Before she could draw him away, he took a breath and asked for an update on the search for Bilis. He set Owen's keycard and gun on the doctor's desk, shoving aside some of the rest of the clutter.

Tosh brought up the search program. "There are several Mangers, but no Bilis listed with the DMV, or the Office for National Statistics."

"We'll have to start with what we know," Jack decided. "We'll go back to the old theater."

Toshiko looked up swiftly from her monitor. "Is that safe? What if you get caught in the past again?"

"It'll be fine." He flashed his wrist strap. "I'll be able to monitor the Rift energy. We'll keep away from it." He looked at Gwen; she was ready to go. He nodded and turned for the door. Then he stopped suddenly. "Wait a minute!" He looked around. "Where'd those elves go?"

===#===

Zevran took Bannon into an out-of-the-way nook, where there was a sink and some cabinets. The Antivan gestured to a paper-wrapped package on a plate. "They got a sandwich for everyone."

Bannon tore into it. "What, just this one little one?"

"Well, I suppose it is quite lucky that fellow go thrown out. He won't be missing this..." Zevran reached into his leather cuirass and fished out another packet that had been flattened and squashed into a concave shape.

Bannon quirked a brow. "You stole food for me?"

"I was taught by the best, no?" He grinned lopsidedly. "Besides, you would do the same for me."

"Zev, I'm touched." He took the packet and unwrapped it. Something damp and oily got on his fingers, so he licked them off, then tore the damp bread, meat, and lettuce in half. He offered one piece to the assassin. As Zevran reached for it, Bannon leaned in and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. Zevran started to reciprocate with a little more vigor, but Bannon heard the big shem's loud footsteps approaching, and he jerked back.

"Hey!" The captain leaned around the corner. He glanced speculatively at each of them. "What are you doing?"

"Eating!" Bannon said. He shoved a big chunk of sandwich in his mouth before the sham tried to get any. Zevran wolfed his down, too.

"Fine. Stay here." He turned and stomped off again, yelling across the underground hall. "Ianto! You're on elf-sitting duty."

"What's with him?" Bannon asked after he finished swallowing.

"Bad day." Zevran shrugged. "What I want to know is, why is it everywhere I go, there are 'elf-sitters'?"

"What I want to know is, how come I never needed an 'elf-sitter' until I met you?"

"What? You blame this on me?"

"Well, it doesn't have anything to do with _me_."

"Why you-!"

===#===

When their 'elf-sitter' arrived, Bannon had Zevran's head shoved into the sink. The Denerim elf couldn't find the jug of water to pour on him, which was very lucky - for Bannon! Zevran flailed and cursed in rapid-fire Antivan. If that little _bicho_ didn't let him up, Zevran was going to punch him in the nuts!

"What are you doing?" Ianto demanded.

Bannon released his prisoner, and Zevran shot upright. They both looked at the Welshman. "Um," said Zevran. He pushed his hair back over his shoulder.

"Never mind that," Bannon said. "Do you guys have anything so advanced as indoor plumbing?"

"Yes, in fact we do. Please follow me, gentlemen. I will show you."

"Why's he have to show us?" Bannon muttered. "Like we don't know how to use one?"

"Perhaps it is a magic garderobe!" Zevran said, grinning with excitement. That would be something to see! He caught up to the human.

"We don't call them garderobes," Ianto explained. "They are commonly known as the loo. Or water closet, or WC for short, or bathroom, or lavatory. Torchwood actually has a large lavatory facility downstairs. This," he said, leading them to a dark wooden door on the upper level; "is the upstairs loo."

Beyond the door was an oblong room. By the left wall was an elongated tub that stood on four paws. Zevran stared at them a moment. While it was clear they were decorative and not actually alive, it seemed odd.

The opposite wall had a thick stone basin affixed to it, below a mirror. There was no pitcher her either, but the basin had a hole in the bottom anyway. And on the back wall-

"This is called a toilet," Ianto said. He demonstrated the use of the lid and the hinged seat.

"There's water in it," Bannon said in surprise. Zevran scooted around to look.

"Yes," said Ianto. "We use water in our sewage systems."

"But doesn't it pour down?" Zevran asked. "How can-?"

"Please allow me to explain." The elves watched as Ianto went over how to position the lid and seat for various needs. Zevran suppressed an impatient sigh. How difficult was it to perform basic bodily functions?

"When you're finished," Ianto said; "you will put the lid down and pull the chain. However, for demonstration purposes, we'll leave it up so you can see." The human pulled a handle on a chain dangling from a boxy fixture over the toilet. There was a deep thrum, and a rushing of water that made the elves jump back. A miniature vortex whirled in the water, then it went down and out with a thick gurgle. The emptied bowl started filling up again.

"Hah!" Zevran crowed. "A magic garderobe!"

"It's not magic," Ianto insisted.

"How does it not all leak out, then?"

"It's a U-bend. It uses the principles of gravity and fluid physics."

"Where does it go?" Bannon asked.

"It goes into the sewer system and on to the sewage treatment plant. Now," he added before the elves could launch more questions, "the fixtures up here are antique. Down in the lavatory, and on most modern toilets, there will be a lever instead of a chain. And afterwards..." He turned to the basin. "Always wash your hands." He turned a knob on the back of the basin, and water flowed out of the spout. "Dry here, on the towel. And please remember that others use these facilities, so leave it as clean and neat as you would like to find it. I'll leave you to it, now. We can go over the brush and the plunger a bit later."

Ianto smiled politely at them and turned to go. Bannon asked Zevran if he needed to use the facilities first.

"Nah," the Antivan replied. "I used the little indoor stream, earlier."

"Argh!" Zevran looked over at Ianto, who was now slapping a palm to his face. He didn't know the very prim and proper servant was capable of yelling. "That's not what that is for!"

"Oh, to be sure, I will use the magic garderobe from now on," Zevran assured him.

===_X_===


	5. The Centre Cannot Hold

**Torchwood: Dragon Age Episode One "End of Days"**

**Chapter 5: The Centre Cannot Hold**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Drama

Language: bad

Violence: yes

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: cliffhanger

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0

_Author's Notes:_

Another super-sized chapter. I was thinking I should just cut out the next round of thrilling adventures, but what the heck. Consider this the Director's Cut. :X If you're tired of all that, you can skip the part after they leave the Hub, then pick up at the bunch of italicized news footage when they return.

The cliffhanger is only cliffhangery if you haven't seen the show. If you have, you know what happens, anyway.

Extremely grateful thanks to the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age who know some Middle English, and the writers of Scribophile who found out how to work a Webley Mark VI after my own research fell short. Also thanks to Google, Wikipedia, dictionary. com and spellcheck. net, who help me not to look like a _total_ idiot. (But note: Polonian may not resemble Polish exactly...)

Props to the Iron Maiden, Testament, and Savatage fans! \m/

* * *

**The Centre Cannot Hold**

===#===

The afternoon traffic was light, especially for a weekend. Gwen wondered if Rhys, too, was hunkering down at home, staying out of the path of chaos. She'd told him to, earlier, and he'd promised he would. But if he had to go out to the market for any lasagna ingredients... Stubborn Welshmen.

Then her thoughts turned back to Owen. The friction between him and Jack this morning had only escalated, and now look where they were. Gwen turned over the information about the 'Torchwood Retirement Program.' Surely, Owen had been exaggerating. Jack wouldn't retcon him. It's not like Owen was some agent provocateur, some security risk. He wouldn't risk people's lives by going public - they'd probably lock him away for spouting on about aliens in Cardiff. How could that be a threat to Torchwood? Unless those people from UNIT took an interest.

Jack was always butting heads with the international extraterrestrial threat response organization. She'd thought it had been interdepartmental politics and male territorialism, but now... She glanced at the man next to her. UNIT probably would consider him an extraterrestrial - and a threat. But Owen wouldn't go to them, peddling secrets... turning Jack over to them, out of spite. Gwen chewed her lip. What was she thinking? That sounded exactly like Owen. Damn.

She could possibly still reconcile them. Owen only had the welfare of the people in mind, after all. She glanced at Jack again. His mouth was pinched in a thin line, the corners of his eyes tight. Now was not a good time. Perhaps after this crisis had passed.

Jack didn't bother easing over to the curb, he just braked rather hard in the middle of the empty street, right in front of the old dance hall. Gwen was glad she'd had one hand braced on the dashboard. She was a bit nervous that he'd parked so close, but held her tongue while he checked his wrist strap.

A frown knit his brows. "This isn't possible." He opened the door and got out before she could ask for clarification. Gwen followed him, hanging back from the doors.

He punched at the buttons his his contraption and turned left and right. "There's nothing here." He slapped the strap with the heel of his hand.

"What does that mean?"

"It means something's wrong. We know Owen opened the Rift right here yesterday, but..." He swept the device in an arc again. "Nothing!" He flipped the cover closed and looked at her. "I'm going to look around inside. Wait here."

"Jack, you promised you wouldn't go in." Of course, he wasn't listening. He started to force the doors open. "What if you get stuck in 1942 again?"

He turned and said flippantly, "Then in seventy years, I'll come walking down this street and drive you back to the Hub."

Gwen threw her hands in the air. Damn that man! "Well at least give us your keys! God knows, you can't keep track of them that long."

Jack stopped halfway in the door to toss her the keyring. Then he disappeared into the darkened hall.

She growled in frustration. She should go after him, as backup, as a second pair of eyes and ears. To help him, to protect him from getting hurt or killed.

But the hard fact was, she was too afraid. If she came walking down this street after seventy years... she wouldn't be walking, she'd be tottering. What would Rhys do, with her in her dotage, near the end of her life? What would she do without him for seventy years? She spat a curse.

Then she keyed her comm. "At least keep an open mic. What's going on?"

After a moment, his voice came back. "_Nothing. Still the same... There's not even any music._"

"What about in the office? Is there any clue as to where Bilis went, or what identity he might be using now?"

"_Good idea._"

Gwen shook her head. What was he doing in there, sightseeing? Your fancy futuristic alien gadgetry might fail you, but good old-fashioned investigation always worked.

===#===

Jack didn't find anything, but Gwen did. It wasn't anything to do with their quarry, but everything to do with their job. She'd noticed a gaggle of children creeping out from a nearby alley. Not your typical school kids, these were dressed in furs and leather; their faces were round, swarthy yellow-brown, their dark eyes hooded. They might be Eskimos or Mongols. Or even children from prehistoric tribes struggling through the Ice Age.

"Jack, get out here," she muttered into the comm. Then she moved around the front of the SUV towards them, slowly, smiling, her hands out unthreateningly. "Here, now; don't be afraid," she said in her best stray animal cajoling voice. She crouched down to appear smaller and less threatening. "Come here, luvs. You can't understand me, can you? It's all right." They milled about uncertainly, and she kept up the soothing monologue.

The smaller children looked to one of the bigger boys. Or perhaps it was a girl, it was difficult to tell under the thick furs. The leader eyed Gwen mistrustfully.

All of their eyes widened as Jack moved up behind her. "Easy now," she said. "Don't spook them."

"Gwen, move back."

She stood slowly, still smiling at the children. "Do you have some of Myfanwy's chocolate stash in the SUV?" She knew chasing the kids would be a trial. Best to lure them with sweets.

Jack didn't answer, but keyed his comm. "Tosh? Send Child Services down here to the alley across from the club." Gwen turned to him in shock. "There are about eight or nine stray children lost down here."

"Wh-?" was all Gwen got out before he grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her off balance. She stumbled against him and was momentarily lost under the folds of his coat as he turned to shield her with his body. Something hit the SUV with a crack like a rifle shot. Was someone shooting at them?

Jack shoved her towards the passenger side of the vehicle. Staying low, she took cover around the side. He ducked down beside her. "Keys!"

She was already reaching for her gun. She changed trajectory and grabbed the keys and shoved them into his hand.

"No guns," he told her, beeping the locks and levering the door open.

That was easy for him to say! Gwen risked a peek over the edge of the SUV. One of the children had a sling. He launched a rock from it and Gwen ducked. It whistled through the air and hit the corner of the windshield with another _CRACK_, leaving a chip in the thick glass. "Bloody hell!"

"Get in!" Jack called, but she was already diving into the passenger seat, and he was already pulling away from the curb.

_What the hell?_ she started to ask again, but he was on the comm to Tosh. "Tell Child Services they're armed with slingshots. They should be careful." He clicked off.

Gwen twisted around as they left the children behind. "Jack! Child Services?"

"They're young," he said, his eyes not leaving the road. "They can adapt."

"But you saw them; they don't belong in this age and time. They've come through the Rift. They're Torchwood's responsibility."

"What do you want me to do, Gwen?" he snapped. "Shoot them full of Weevil-tranq? Lock them in a cell down in the Vault?" When he spoke again, his voice was tight, level. "Child Services will teach them English, how to use a fork and spoon... They'll be able to integrate into society."

Her blood ran cold. Children lost in time, treated like the mentally retarded, tamed and trained to live in the modern world; they would lead lives completely alien to what they had been destined for. Yet it was better than what Torchwood could do.

Gwen looked at Jack, studied the closed, stern expression, the hard-set eyes. Like a good soldier, she had faith in her commander, but Owen's words echoed in her mind - _like a plaster on a gaping wound_. How long could this policy of 'containment' keep up?

Impatient with even the light traffic, Jack hit the blue flashers and gunned through a red light. Gwen held on.

===#===

Toshiko chewed distractedly on the arm of her glasses as she watched the Rift calculations run. Ianto came down the stairs after showing the elves the upstairs loo. "Another disaster averted," he said. Then he looked up worriedly. "Or about to start."

"Ianto, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Tosh."

She turned her chair to face him. "Do you ever post things for Jack?"

"Yes, all the time. Why?"

"He didn't want me to have any contact with my mother, but he does let me send her cards twice a year. Does he give them to you? Do you know what address they go to?"

He pursed his lips, thinking. "No, I don't recall anything like that." He shook his head, and she sighed, feeling the icy fingers of dread spreading further along her spine. "I'm sorry," he said; "I didn't even know you had any living relatives."

"Maybe I don't."

"Why would Jack lie about something like that?" He frowned. "Or keep up such a charade?"

"I don't know," Tosh said, but in the back of her mind, she could think of a few. It would keep her in line, for one thing. But didn't Jack understand how loyal she was? How grateful to be allowed to work for Torchwood? Or was all that part of the charade as well? She shook herself. She would find out. Right now, there was no use jumping to conclusions.

Ianto looked up as the two elven visitors came down the spiral staircase. They were looking much refreshed. Tosh wondered about the state of the loo, and was ashamed to admit she was glad that it was part of Ianto's job description to clean up in there, not hers.

"What are you doing?" Bannon asked, leaning over her desk to watch the colours flashing on the screen.

"These are the calculations for the Rift manipulator, and the projected results for the Rift that will open," Tosh said.

"So the mage was right. You do know how to open it." He shared a look with Zevran.

"Mage?" Ianto asked.

Zevran said, "The one you didn't see in the dungeon." Ianto frowned.

"So open this Rift," said Bannon, "and we can go home."

"It's not that simple," Tosh explained. "Especially with the new security protocols Jack put in."

"He did seem rather adamant about not opening the Rift," said Ianto, a frown line still creasing his brow.

"There's also some doubt as to whether we should open it. Look here." Toshiko pointed to a set of numbers flipping rapidly on the screen. "This variable is shrinking rapidly. If it continues on, we'll end up with a division by zero."

The elves looked blank, but Ianto knew what that would mean. "Is that an error in the formula we have?"

"No, it's the projected length of the Rift. It could theoretically become infinite."

"Is that... as bad as it sounds?"

Tosh turned away from the screen. "It means the Rift will cross the entire universe, yes."

The door alarms blared, and Toshiko quickly minimized the program. Ianto gave the elves a hushed warning to say nothing. Those two shrugged at each other. Ianto called out, "Any luck?"

"Only bad," Gwen griped.

Jack said, "We didn't find anything. The anomaly, it completely vanished. No residual energy, nothing."

"What does that mean?" Ianto asked him.

"It means Bilis is up to something." Jack threw his coat over a handrail.

Hesitantly, Toshiko said, "What if Owen... What if opening the Rift there, then closing it again - what if that healed the breach?"

Jack shook his head. "It's not possible."

Gwen looked at him. "You know how this all works?"

"I know that making two tears doesn't leave you with a whole cloth." Jack came over to the workstations. "Have you found any trace of Bilis' new identity?" he asked Tosh.

"No."

"Well, what have you- what's that?"

"It's..."

It was no use; Jack reached over and maximized the Rift calculations. His eyes scanned it and grew hard. "It looks a hell of a lot like the Rift manipulator equations. I told you: we are _not_ touching the Rift."

She flinched. "Well, I just thought... if we eliminate it as a possibility..."

"I already eliminated it!" he snapped. "Find a lead on Bilis Manger." He clicked the program to close it. "We're running out of time."

"Jack, ease up," Gwen said carefully.

The Rift alert klaxon sounded, a death knell to the brief respite. Jack gave Gwen a sour look. "I'd like to, but I can't."

Tosh turned away from his baleful glare, drawing up the tracking programs. She started counting as Jack barked orders.

"Ianto, take Bannon again. Tosh, take Zevran. Gwen, with me."

Gwen said, "Tosh will need her hands free to run the scanners by remote. I'll take Zevran."

"No," he said quickly. "You and Tosh take the SUV. I'll take him."

The elf in question sighed dramatically. "Always they are fighting over me, no?"

"No," his friend was quick to shoot him down. "Don't get eaten by any darkspawn," he called over his shoulder as he followed Ianto out.

"You either, _lethallin_."

"Keys," Jack said to Gwen. He'd have to take her car. She bit down on a groan and handed them over. "Tosh, what are we looking at?"

"Thirteen."

"All right. Get visual on each one quick as you can. Pass off the minor stuff to local authorities or UNIT." He swept his coat on and called to his elf, "Let's go."

Tosh set up her remote access and went with Gwen.

===#===

Jack ground his teeth as he had to waste more time adjusting the seat in Gwen's car. She needed a bigger car. Zevran, for his part, sat still, curiously looking over the new vehicle, but touching nothing.

Jack slammed the car into gear and nearly flooded the engine. This thing wasn't as responsive as the SUV. He took a deliberately long, slow breath, then tried again. He had to keep his cool and deal with this crisis. _Something_ had to be causing the Rift to behave this way, but what? If the Doctor were here, he'd figure it out in a heartbeat. Where was he? Jack was willing to hold the line until he arrived, by himself if necessary.

No, he couldn't think like that. He'd spent a century waiting for the Doctor, and when the time had come, he couldn't catch up with the Time Lord. The Doctor had left again, without even realizing Jack was here, trying to reunite with him.

Left behind again.

Jack gripped the wheel, then eased off. Tosh relayed the location of the nearest Rift activity, and the Torchwood team split up to race to each scene.

Jack stuck with Torchwood through the long, slow years because he knew the Doctor would return to the site of the Rift, of Torchwood 3's headquarters. He knew, because the Doctor had shown him where it was and how he refueled his TARDIS from the unlimited energy.

Jack couldn't meet the Doctor then, because he couldn't risk meeting himself in his own past. Knowing where the Doctor was and being unable to go to him had been more painful than trying to reach him and failing.

Once again, he had to loosen his hands on the steering wheel. He was not so desperate that he hoped the world would come to the brink of annihilation just so he could see the man who had become his hero. And he was jaded enough to know better than to trust anyone but himself.

Bilis had to be the key. He was no ordinary human. If only Toshiko could have gotten a lead on him in this timeline. He shouldn't have yelled at her, he realized with chagrin. But why had she been running that calculation? Without consulting him first? That wasn't like her. Owen being a stubborn, rebellious prick was nothing out of the ordinary. Hell, even Ianto lying to him wasn't unheard of, was it? But Tosh had faith in him, ever since he'd brought her out of that hellhole of a UNIT prison.

Jack was gently shaken from his musings when the elf cleared his throat. "You have something to say?" he asked Zevran.

"_Si_. Just to clarify for all concerned, I was not going to stab you in the back."

"No? Why were you sneaking up behind me with a knife? You see a loose thread or something?"

"Heh heh." The blond's quiet chuckle was warm and breathy. If Jack weren't so distracted with the Rift Storms, he would find that quite alluring. "No, I was only prepared for the eventuality of you attacking us. That did not seem to be your plan, however."

"You didn't seem to care for my plan of putting you in the Vault."

"Hrm, yes, we could have done without that bit."

"Well," Jack said optimistically, "it all turned out for-"

Something up ahead exploded.

===#===

Gwen had the tranq pistol, Tosh her PDA, as they entered the primary school. The front doors were broken; spider-webbed safety glass lay on the pavement, and the metal frames looked chewed. The women turned down an empty hall, skirting a folding table. "There!" Gwen spied it before Tosh looked up from her palmtop screen. A brightly-coloured buglike creature, about the size of her hand, scuttled away. They pursued.

"Easy," Tosh warned; "It stopped again." They slowly peered around another corner and saw the little alien. It had crab claws, insectile legs, pink frilly antennae, and a segmented abdomen. It turned around and raised the tip of that abdomen towards them.

They both ducked back as a bubblegum-pink wad spattered on the wall near their heads. "Did that thing just projectile _poop_ at us!?" Gwen exclaimed.

Toshiko eyed the... poop spatter. "At least it's a nice colour." She frowned as the paint began to peel around the wad. A tiny wisp of smoke rose. "But it seems to be highly acidic."

Gwen risked a peek around the corner. The little gremlin seemed to be considering another volley. "I'm not sure I can hit it with the tranq; it's so small." Would the needle even penetrate the chitin?

"I suggest a retreat to the SUV is in order," said Tosh.

"I concur. _Go!_"

They fled back down the hall, but drew up short as an array of gremlin bugs gathered in an arc and prepared to present posteriors. Gwen's phone rang. "Not now, Rhys!" She shoved the tranq pistol in the back of her belt and fumbled for the phone's cutoff.

"No, wait, don't turn it- _Look out!_"

The two women dove through a doorway. Tosh pulled her phone out. "Let it ring," she said as she punched the keypad.

The gremlins were trundling towards them, until Gwen's phone rang. Then they just froze in place. "What?"

Tosh said, "Something about that sound - the frequency or something - is making them stop."

The gremlins' frilly antennae quivered in time with the rings of Gwen's mobile. Then the call switched over to voice mail. Tosh hung up and redialed. In the pause, the gremlins scuttled forward into a new firing position. They froze once more as the phone trilled.

"Come on!" Tosh danced over the firing line, and Gwen followed on her heels.

"They'll be after us again."

"Grab that fire extinguisher!"

They swung around a corner, and the next hall had gremlins crawling up the walls. "Oh bloody hell!"

Tosh rang Gwen, and Gwen sprayed them with the fire extinguisher until they were frozen - literally. The phone stopped, and several of the fringe gremlins scattered to escape. The two Torchwood agents pursued with phone and fire extinguisher, until they ended up outside in the playground.

"They're going to thaw," Gwen said, spraying the last batch. "What are we doing to do?"

"You're not going to believe this," Tosh said.

"What?" Then Gwen looked where she was pointing. "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"I'll ring you again, go make sure they stay frozen. Then we'll cart them out here."

Gwen groaned and ran back inside while Tosh punched the redial on her phone and went to steal an ice cream truck.

===#===

Ianto waited at a red light, craning his neck to look for any signs of... well, anything. "Keep a sharp lookout," he told his partner. "It could be anything that came through the Rift. Even something small."

"I know," Bannon replied. "Like those little boxes? We'll never find it if it's that small."

"We should only be so lucky as to have it be something as innocuous as that."

"Ianto!"

He turned at the panicked tone in the elf's voice, just in time to see a lamp post at the next corner topple over, nearly hitting two cars. One screeched to a halt. The other swerved, laid on the horn, and then buckled in on the side and flew up over the sidewalk to smash into a glass storefront. Only, there was nothing to have impacted with it. Or worse...

"Shoot it!" Ianto yelled.

"Shoot what?"

"Whatever it-"

Something roared. Then the ground started shaking in time to the heavy thumping... of something accelerating towards them. Ianto tried to estimate how big it was, but had a hard time concentrating as the elf shoved at his arm in a panic.

"Drive... drive! Move! Move! Go go go!"

Ianto tromped on the accelerator and turned onto the street in front of the... whatever it was. A parked car behind them got smashed aside.

"Faster!" The elf almost brained him pulling the bow off his shoulder.

"Not that! Use the crossbow-without-a-bow!"

Bannon scrabbled around for the tranq gun.

===#===

The square was a battlefield. Gunfire clattered from both sides. Greasy black smoke drifted across the roadway from an overturned UNIT vehicle. Jack strode past troops in black body armor and red berets. They didn't stand a chance in this fight. He spied the leader, a man with captain's stripes, and moved to him, Zevran following in his wake.

"Captain, order your men to hold their fire," Jack told the UNIT commander.

The man, with grey at his temples and steel in his eyes, took one look at him and snorted in contempt. "They've killed fourteen of my men."

"If you don't want more dead, then stop shooting."

"This is not the jurisdiction of Torchwood!"

"It is now." Jack grabbed a bullhorn from the captain's lieutenant and aimed it across the square. "This is Captain Jack Harkness of the United American Federation. I am invoking directive 766. Cease fire!"

Within moments, the spates of gunfire died out. Jack handed the bullhorn back to the UNIT captain. "I'm going to talk to them. Just sit tight." He turned to Zevran. "You stay here." No sense in both of them getting shot if things went wrong.

Without waiting for any replies, Jack strode into the center of the battlefield. It was lucky he majored in the 20th - 25th centuries at the Time Agency, he mused. Especially when he got stuck here for the duration.

"Where is your commanding officer?" he demanded loudly, when he'd reached the midpoint between the two forces. He clasped his hands behind his back to give himself an air of authority and confidence, as well as to appear unthreatening. Though sweeping back the wings of his coat did reveal his sidearm.

There was movement from behind a kiosk and a phalanx of parked vehicles, then one of the soldiers stepped out. He was armed, but his weapon was slung. His spine perfectly straight, his shoulders squared, he rapidly approached and snapped a precise salute.

Jack returned it, then resumed his parade rest stance, pushing his shoulders back a bit more. He glanced at the tattoos marking the soldier's face; his name was Todd and he ranked as sergeant. "Where is your commanding officer?"

"We were cut off, sir."

Jack cursed inwardly. The officers would be easier to deal with. The frontline soldiers, the grunts, were products of a special eugenics program. They were bred and trained to obey orders, not to think for themselves. "Why were you fighting these men?"

"We were fired upon, sir. We took cover and returned fire."

"Sergeant, I'm taking command of your platoon. Secure your weapons and fall in."

If Todd had an opinion of that, or any sort of suspicion at all, it didn't show on his face. "I will need the response to challenge code Bravo Victor 0079, sir." His voice was as polite as military neutrality could be, but if Jack failed this test, things could get very ugly.

And, unfortunately, this was one thing Jack couldn't fake or bluff his way through. "I do not have the codes, Sergeant. But for the safety of your men, I need you to follow my orders."

"I am not authorized to do that, sir." Now his voice was hard, like steel being drawn.

"Listen, Sergeant Todd, does this look like the place you were deployed? Do you recognize it?" He spread his hands, gesturing around them.

The soldier scanned left and right. "No, sir."

"You and your men have been drawn through a Rift in space and time," Jack said firmly, looking into the soldier's cold eyes, trying to reach some sort of reason within him. He got nothing in return. "Did you notice any unusual electrical or atmospheric phenomenon when you were cut off from your command?"

"Yes, sir."

"That was the Rift. It's moved you through time and space to this location. This is Great Britain, about 250 years before your time. There is no United American Federation, and you are not at war."

Todd's eyes narrowed a fraction.

"Yes, I lied about my commission, but it was the fastest way to get you to listen. I'm the leader of Torchwood. I can help you, but I need your cooperation."

Todd's gaze went past him, assessing the UNIT troops deployed against his platoon.

"You can try to fight your way out of this," Jack tried desperately, "but where are you going to go? How are you going to complete your objective, when it doesn't even exist here?" He hoped this grunt could reason and think past his training and indoctrination, think outside the box he'd been trapped in his entire life. It was a slim hope. "Think of the survival of your men."

He couldn't read this man; he was more closed off than even Ianto. Was anything even going on inside his mind? He had orders... they probably included wiping out any resistance. Jack braced for the worst. Todd stared him in the eye, and neither man blinked.

Then the soldier nodded. He surrendered his weapon to the surprised Captain Harkness, then turned and signaled his men. The other soldiers filed out from cover. They lined up with precision and saluted Jack.

Grateful, Jack returned the gesture. Then he realized he had no way to transport these men back to the Hub. Now the UNIT captain and some of his men were coming to the parley, and Jack realized he was sunk. UNIT would love to get their hands on these advanced soldiers, to study them, learn how they were created... to use them. They could plant the seeds of the eugenics program that had become such a dark blot on the history of humanity in the centuries to come.

The UNIT captain gave Jack a look of barely suppressed smugness. "I think we can handle it from here, 'captain.'"

_You think you can_, Jack thought uncharitably, _but you know nothing about these soldiers._ He glanced at Todd, who had remained silent and unnaturally still, waiting for orders, the same as the rest of his men. But Todd had been watching the officers, and no matter what he'd been bred or trained to think, he was still human. From behind his eyes, he watched, and waited to know his fate.

Todd looked at Jack expectantly, and now Jack could see a glimmer of thought. If Jack gave him the nod, the Sergeant would go with the UNIT troops until they reached their headquarters. UNIT would try to incarcerate the soldiers, and they'd resist. The soldiers would tear through the UNIT facility like wolves in a sheepfold.

Jack couldn't, in good conscience, cause the death of so many. He had to let go. "Sergeant Todd, you and your men are now under the command of these UNIT officers."

"Yes, sir." He snapped a salute.

Jack returned it, then turned on his heels and left. It was out of his hands, now. Besides, he had more to deal with. He could see the ragged outline of a Sycorax ship parked on top of a shopping mall several blocks away.

He found Zevran. The elf had his bow out, an arrow on the string. "What are you doing with that?"

"Watching your back."

Jack wondered if he should be touched - or worried. He beckoned Zevran to follow him back to Gwen's car. "With ideas of sticking an arrow in me?"

"Certainly not. There is more than one way to watch a man's back."

Was the elf flirting with him? Jack glanced aside. That did look quite like a leer. Now was not a good time. "Are you any good with those pig-stickers of yours?" He got to the car and unlocked the door.

"I am an expert swordsman, and I can assure you, I have never used them to stick a pig," Zevran huffed, offended.

Jack looked over the roof of the car at him. "What do you stick your pigs with, then?"

The grin sprang back onto the elf's face. "Well, it depends on what he likes, no?"

God they _were_ flirting! Damn. Maybe later. "Just get in the car."

"As you like."

===#===

"An invisible rhino," Ianto thought out loud as he drove well above the speed limit. "An invisible dinosaur." Something crunched behind them, the sound of twisting metal and shattering glass. Ianto didn't look, he had to keep his eyes ahead. He wouldn't see anything useful anyway. "An invisible dragon," he hypothesized, worrying about the crowded intersection up ahead.

Bannon was sitting braced in the passenger side window, facing backwards and shooting at their pursuer. No seatbelt for him this time; the threat of catastrophic trampling outweighed the danger of Ianto's driving.

The elf ducked down into the car. "No," he said as he counterbalanced against Ianto's swerving, "a dragon would have taken flight by now."

"Good to know we can cross that off. Did you hit it?"

"I dunno."

Ianto laid on the horn and wished he had blue flashers at least. He braked and swerved down a side street. A far too narrow one. But at least there was no traffic. "Is it following?"

"I dunno." Bannon opened the glovebox and tried to catch the box of tranquilizer darts that fell out.

Something boomed and roared in complaint at the mouth of the alley, followed by the distinct sound of bricks tumbling to the ground. "Oh yeah, it is," the elf amended, shoving darts into the chamber.

Ianto slowed and turned again. If it were intent upon pursuing them, which it seemed to be, he could keep it contained by going around the block. But every time he slowed for a turn... Something tagged the rear quarter of the car, causing the back end to skid sideways. Ianto regained control while the whatever-it-was broadsided another parked car. "At least it doesn't corner well."

Bannon hoisted himself back into position in the window. Ianto heard the creature's footfalls pounding the asphalt and the bark of the tranq gun.

"I don't think you're hitting it," Ianto called.

"I _am_ hitting it, just your stupid crossbow is useless!"

Ianto pulled a left onto a wide avenue. The thing took out a corner postbox and light pole.

"Faster!"

"I'm tr- _oh shit!_" Red light! Ianto didn't dare slow down. He hammered on the horn and looked for a break in the criss-crossing traffic ahead. Unlike in the movies, a gap wasn't miraculously appearing in the nick of time. He slewed the car towards the point of least impact and managed to fishtail through the intersection amid the blaring of horns and screeching of tires. One note in the din was deeper and heavier, and cut off abruptly with a dull _WHUMP_ and the crunch of a truck's front grille.

Clear of the scattered vehicles, Ianto braked to a halt and looked back. A semi with a crumpled front end stood geysering steam. In front of it was a large clear space that slowly pooled with dark purple liquid.

Ianto got out for a better look. Bannon, who had been clinging to the car door for dear life, climbed fully out the window and came over beside him.

"Where's the gun? Er, crossbow."

The elf pointed towards the middle of the wreckage in the intersection. Well, Ianto couldn't have expected him to keep hold of it during maneuvers. They were only lucky Bannon himself hadn't gone flying.

"Hey!" someone yelled. "What the hell?" The dazed motorists were milling around in confusion with bewildered stares at the lump of nothing in front of the truck. Some of them started pointing in Ianto's direction.

"Back in the car," he said. "Situation clear." He could call UNIT to handle the cleanup, once they were speeding safely away.

===#===

_Jing-jing-jingle, jingle jingle jing-jing. Jing-jing-jingle, jingle jingle jing-jing._

Gwen gritted her teeth as she guided the ice cream truck slowly down the street. "I swear to God, Tosh, if I have to listen to this jangling for much longer, I'm going to go mental!"

Tosh was driving behind her. "_I'm sorry, Gwen; I didn't find any heavy protection in the SUV._"

Gwen shifted her focus to the PDA balanced precariously on the steering wheel. "All right, just up here, on the left. I've got signals." When the milling specks on the screen froze, Gwen hit the brake and jumped out.

She and Tosh swept up the gremlins in their butterfly nets, then deposited them in the freezer of the ice cream truck. _Well_, Gwen thought as they slammed the doors shut and she turned and leaned on them, _you can't say Torchwood agents are slouches at improvising!_

===#===

The Sycorax had about twenty or thirty people corralled in the food court. The tall humanoids with skeletal armor had a tight perimeter around them, but Jack and Zevran hadn't encountered any sentries guarding the mall doors. They seemed more concerned with keeping their prisoners in than keeping anyone else out.

"Okay, you see that big armored guy with the ceremonial sword?"

"_Si._"

"Think you can take him in a fair fight?"

The elf snorted. "You did say 'ceremonial' sword, did you not?"

Jack glanced at the sword hilts sticking up over Zevran's shoulders. They were utilitarian and worn with use. "His armor is a lot thicker than yours, though."

"I am, no doubt, faster."

Jack recalled the elves' fight against the cyberman. This seemed a good bet, but he was betting with people's lives, here.

Zevran pulled out his left sword, and a vial from his belt. "Do they allow poison in this duel?" he asked, pouring some shadowy liquid along the edge of the blade.

"Definitely not."

"Then we shall not mention it, hm?" Zevran grinned and spun the sword until the liquid spread over the metal and dried in a faint oily sheen.

"Right. Follow my lead." Jack suppressed a grin and walked out towards the Sycorax guards, his hands out, showing they were empty. "Take me to your leader," he demanded in Galactic Standard. "I have a challenge for him."

===#===

The way Zevran understood this, he was now the Champion of Torchwood, and this duel would decide who would be sovereign over this world. He grinned up at the tall creature before him.

The Sycorax leader was decked in layers of carved bone, with a bestial skull for a helmet. He raised his thick-bladed sword in two hands, quite the decorative thing, judging by the gems and carvings and filigree on it. "_Shaard phah, nogolo szhritu!_" the thing spit at him, snarling and showing teeth filed to points.

Zevran chuckled lightly and leaned back on one leg, his stance entirely relaxed. The audience surrounding them, bone warriors and humans alike, seemed in awe of his lack of fear. He drew his swords slowly. "You are not so ugly as a darkspawn," he told his opponent, giving his left sword a limbering twirl. "Nor so powerful as an abomination. Nor as large as an Archdemon." Zevran smirked. "You think you can intimidate me?" He grinned more infuriatingly.

The creature's eyes flared with red light. He roared, raised the heavy blade, and charged Zevran. So big, so heavy, so clumsy, so slow. The elf almost had time to yawn before he stepped aside. _This is too easy,_ Zevran thought. _Perhaps I should toy with him, make things a little more dramatic._

So when the Sycorax turned and came at him again, Zevran danced aside, and struck out with his offhand blade, just nicking lightly between the bony plates of armor. He pirouetted, and flashed his smile at the captive humans. "What is this?" he decried dramatically. "Do you plan to overcome me with your foul stench?" He laughed, and the warrior lunged.

Left, right, left, the elf darted, the huge blade slamming into the tiles of the floor beside him. "Perhaps it is your plan to muss my hair with the wind of your passage." Zevran stabbed lightly, prodding and poking at the bone armor and the flesh beneath it.

The Sycorax was puffing like an ox, slowing down even more. This was pathetic. Zevran played to his audience; he could hear the humans laughing at the beast, he could see the glitter of adoration in the women's eyes, the glare of envy on the men's faces.

And the scowl on the captain's. "Will you hurry it up! We don't have all day."

"As you wish!" With another flair, he sprang at his foe, surprising the Sycorax with a flurry of swift blows. Then he left an opening. The warrior struck. Zevran backpedaled, off balance, to the gasping of the crowd.

With a roared curse, the Sycorax swordsman thrust, overextending his whole body. Zevran twisted aside, then stuck out a foot to trip the creature. It went down with a mighty thud, and Zevran leapt upon his back, stabbed down, driving his swords into the broad back of the beast. It screamed, and thrashed, then fell limp, bleeding out on the tiles.

Zevran stood atop his foe, a bloodthirsty grin on his face, waving at his adoring audience.

Jack was busy ordering the other bone warriors around in that foreign language. They released their captives, some of whom wanted to show their appreciation to their elven champion.

The captain broke Zevran out of a lip-lock with the sixth or seventh young beauty to be thanking him graciously. And enthusiastically. "Will you come on!"

"What? Did I not win this duel for you?" Zevran grabbed his swords out of the body. "By the way, since I did win, does that not make me King of this World?"

"No," Jack said sourly. "You're my champion. That makes _me_ King of the World."

"Bah, you shems are all alike. I did all the work!" Zevran followed the captain back to the coach.

"Work? What work? I wanted you to take that guy out, not play with him!"

"It was too easy."

"Zevran," Jack said, turning and facing him. "You're not getting paid by the hour. The next time I need you to help me save the world, skip the dramatics and just do it!" He opened the coach door for the elf, then went around to the other side to drive it.

Zevran blinked. "I get paid?"

"Just get in the car!"

The elf climbed in. "What do I get paid? _When_ do I get paid?"

The human just waved a hand to shush him, then touched his ear. "Yes, I got it, Tosh. Costco. We'll be right there."

"Who are you talking to?"

"I'm in magical communication with my team," the human said. He worked the mysterious controls that brought the coach to life. "Now shut up-"

"But this getting paid thing-"

"On payday, okay? If you live that long." Jack shot Zevran a glare as he was opening his mouth again. "Which you won't, if you don't shut up right now."

Zevran huffed and sat back in his seat. Shems.

The Costco parking lot was besieged by a platoon of horsemen milling about on one side. Tall, red-painted lances and decorative wings rose above the throng. Four patrol cars lined the other end of the parking lot, doors open to give the PCs cover. They'd been issued firearms, but no one was shooting just yet. The senior officer was still calling, via bullhorn, for the lancers to cease and desist. They probably didn't speak a word of English.

The Torchwood team was parked on the sidewalk, between the two opposing forces. Jack and Zevran joined Tosh and Gwen alongside the SUV. They had their own firearms drawn. Those who had firearms instead of swords, anyway. Jack poked his head up. He could see the lancers forming ranks. This was going to get real ugly, real fast. If only they could communicate with these people.

Ianto and Bannon trotted up.

"A little late to the party?" the captain said with sour humor.

"We've had some problems," Ianto replied. He drew his own gun and looked across the battlefield.

"Hasn't everyone?"

The elf went to his partner, also sizing up the foreign combatants. "Hey, are those the hussaria?"

Jack looked over. "You know these guys?"

Bannon shrugged at him. "They look like the Polonian Winged Hussars."

"Do you speak their language?" How lucky could these elves be?

Zevran said, "I know several choice curses and insults in Polonian."

Bannon looked at his friend. "What was that, that Anborn was always yelling at you?"

"_Bzdury?_"

"No, no; when he got really sick of you and wanted you to shut up. _'Tak'?_"

"No, that means 'thank you.'"

There was a shouted command from the lancers' side of the field. The police leveled their weapons. A bloodbath was about to break out - _dammit!_

"_'Tacht'!_" Bannon said, apparently it was the word he'd been looking for. He jumped up and ran out into the lot towards the horsemen. "_Tacht!_" he was yelling. The Torchwood crew all stood up, watching the suicidal little elf.

"Hold your fire!" Jack yelled back towards the police. The command was echoed via bullhorn a moment later.

===#===

"_Tacht! Tacht, hussaria!_" Bannon stopped several yards away from the lancers, his arms spread, his hands empty of weapons.

The hussars grumbled and yelled to each other. Then one, apparently in charge, quieted them. He barked a challenge at Bannon.

"I don't speak Polonian," he said very slowly. "But I'm a friend. Friend!"

They looked dubious. Bannon met the commander's eyes and beckoned him forward. The man narrowed his gaze. Bannon glanced over his shoulder; Zevran, the captain, and the others were walking up behind him.

"Friends," Bannon insisted. He brought his hands together and clasped them. "We want to help you." He moved his hands together in a horizontal circle, then mimed lifting one with the other. He pointed at the hussars.

Their commander chewed his lip a moment. Bannon beckoned him over again, and then cast around on the ground for a stick to use to draw in the dust. He was thwarted by the fact they were standing on black paving. But he spied a pebble and crouched to grab it.

The commander dismounted and walked over, three of his lieutenants following. Bannon scratched stick figures on the pavement: horses and riders with wings and sticks. "Hussaria," he said, and pointed at the lancers. The commander nodded.

Bannon drew a big, jagged line over and in front of the stick-horses. He gestured into the sky, indicating a big rip.

"_Da._" They nodded more vigorously and gathered closer.

The elf drew arrows from the horsemen, through the rip, and to the other side. He gestured around the courtyard. "Here." He pointed down where they were.

The commander asked something, gesturing at Bannon and those behind him.

The elf glanced back again. The city guardsmen were also now cautiously approaching. Bannon pointed at the people with him. "Torchwood."

"Tortchvood."

"_Da._" Bannon drew a line of shield-bearers next to where the arrow had landed, indicating the defenders. "Do any of you speak common?" he asked. They looked blank. "Dalish? Elvhenan?" More shaking of heads.

"_Hable Antivan?_" Zevran added.

"_Espa____ñ_ol?" Ianto tried. "_Castellano? Italiano? Parles-vous Francais?_"

"_Sprechen sie Deustch?_" Jack tossed in.

Ianto shot him a look. "I didn't know you spoke German."

The captain shrugged. "You go through World War II twice, you pick up some stuff." This earned him an even stranger look.

The hussaria seemed passingly familiar with German. The commander called for one of his men.

Jack turned and waved the all-clear to the police. When the lieutenant and a couple of her men came over, he started bossing them around. "You're going to need a paddock, a field, or something to contain these horses. Find out if any of your people speak any German. Better yet, get someone on the horn to the Polish embassy and have them send someone over. They'd probably be happy to get some first-hand accounts of their history."

"You can't just foist these people off on us!"

"Why? Because it would have been more convenient for your people to have killed them all?" Jack snarled at her, and she blanched. "It would have been a bloodbath, but I suppose that's easier than just talking and trying to communicate." She flinched again, and he turned away. He paused a moment next to the elf. "Excellent job."

Bannon nodded in acknowledgement. His eyes flicked past Jack for a moment, noting how he was pissing off the local constabulary.

Jack continued on to meet his liaison and direct the hussars in passable German. To her credit, Lt. Somers (as he found out when he finally asked her name) organized her troops and handled the situation with competence. That didn't save them from a "Bloody Torchwood" as Jack and his team left the site.

They regrouped by the SUV. "Okay, Tosh," Jack started as he strode up, "what have we got?"

She had the side door open as she tapped on the back seat terminal. "This ripple is passing outward. UNIT and national response teams are tracking the anomalies."

"Then if there's nothing else local, we should regroup-"

"Abbot Harkness!"

Jack turned as a hirsute, burly man rushed up to him. He dropped to his knees and seized the captain's hand. "In sooth, the Good Lord is merciful! Thou hast come!" He started planting bristly kisses on Jack's knuckles. "Take mercy 'pon a sinner, an thou wilt!"

"Uh...," Jack said, his brows going up. "What's this?"

"Ah, 'Abbot' Harkness," Ianto explained, "this is Tomas the farrier." Jack glared when it seemed the Welshman was going to stop there. "Er, Brother Bannon and I have told him about the quiet cell we have at Torchwood Monastery. Where he can meditate and take sanctuary against demonic influence."

"Because you can speak Old English."

"Actually, it's Middle English. Old English would be unin-" He broke off as Jack gave him the _spare me the trivial details and get the the point_ look. "Yes, right."

"And he's not sedated because...?"

"It didn't seem necessary, sir. He did come quite willingly."

"'Pon my oath, Good Abbot, I fain would beg thy sanctuary!"

"How am I-?"

Jack was interrupted as Bannon came over and rescued his hand from the enthusiastic supplicant. "Let me show ye to the Revered Father's coach."

Jack shot Ianto another look; Ianto just shrugged. It seemed this elf was a talented liar. He could be trouble. Meanwhile, perhaps Zevran could talk to the medieval workman. If they were going to foist this guy off on him, he was going to delegate.

Bannon reappeared. "Yeah, it's a lot more 'helpful' when you're not poisoning people and tossing them in your dungeon without any explanation." He gave Jack a pointed look.

The captain reined back any reply, not willing to get involved in this argument. And he sure as hell wasn't going to apologize for doing his job. "All right," he told his team at large, "back to the Hub. Tosh, priority one is the search for Bilis. We have to get on top of this thing before it gets any worse."

===#===

_"...death tolls continue to rise around the globe. Beijing has closed its borders and airspace, shooting down any persons or vehicles approaching the city or attempting to leave._

_"Epidemics have closed down over 350 cities worldwide._

_"In New York City, a giant alien monstrosity appeared near Times Square, crushing half a block. Luckily for New Yorkers, the shock of its arrival seems to have killed the creature before it could go on a rampage and cause more destruction._

_"Meanwhile, the Republic of Kenya has been unable to approach the machinery that has been pumping poison gas into the atmosphere near the Tsavo East National Park. The last elephant herd has succumbed to the poison, after all rescue efforts met with fatal results. Ecologists fear this will only be the first wave of extinctions if this machinery is not shut down. The presidents of Kenya and Tanzania are considering the ramifications of nuclear detonation in this area, as conventional bombardment has failed to penetrate the machinery's defenses._

_"Closer to home, Defence Minister Harold Saxon has called in an airstrike against the 'Beast of Edinburgh,' which paleontologists have identified as a member of the Brachiosaur family."_

Toshiko and Gwen watched in silence as the Tornado GR4s strafed the misplaced dinosaur. It's low-pitched cries sounded like a humpback whale screaming. It took several passes for the fighter jets to bring it down.

Tosh swiped at a tear that had escaped. It was stupid, crying over an animal when so many people were dying. But it was all so senseless. Was that all the universe was? Weapons, diseases, deadly species, killing and dying? Where was the science? The cures, the miraculous devices, the sense of wonder, beauty and creation?

She tried to tell herself it was there. All the benign and wonderful things were there; it was just that the horrible and cruel things demanded immediate attention. Perhaps in the months ahead, Torchwood would be called to handle those benign things: creatures that slipped away and hid, plants indigenous to other worlds, bits of technology that humans coveted.

If the world wasn't shaken apart before then.

On the newsfeed, various religious representatives were giving their opinions. "_Judgment Day is finally here. This is the End of Days._"

Gwen hit the mute. "That's what people keep saying. The End of Days; it's the end of the world."

Ianto read from a dog-eared Bible. "I heard, but did not understand, and I said, 'Master, what is the end of all these things?' And he said, 'Go, Daniel, for these things are closed up and sealed until the end of time.'

"Many will be purified, cleansed, and refined by these trials. But the wicked will continue in their wickedness, and none of them will understand. Only those who are wise will know what it means."

"What _does_ it mean?" Zevran asked.

"It means you can keep being wicked, because you obviously don't know," Bannon told him. The other elf slugged him in the arm.

Ianto put the Bible aside and pulled out a bigger and dustier leather-bound tome. "Then there's this." He flipped through the musty pages. "Abaddon, the Great Devourer. Ah, here we go." He traced a finger down the page. "And lo, he shall rise from his earthly prison, the Eater of Life, the demon Abaddon. And wheresoever he shall stretch out his hand, his shadow will fall and reap the living like wheat before the scythe.

"Iblis, the Evil, shall herd the non-believers, the sinners of the Earth, sowing the seeds of dissent, wreaking deadly havok on mankind."

Jack came over. "You twenty-first century humans, I swear. You think you're so advanced, but as the slightest hint of the inexplicable, you turn back to your magic and superstition, and any story that denies the randomness of existence."

"What's wrong with magic?" Bannon wanted to know, but the captain ignored him.

"I can guarantee, the world is not about to end."

"Because," Tosh ventured, "it's still here in the fifty-first century?"

"Exactly!"

This made Toshiko feel a lot better. She shared a relieved smile with Gwen, but the other woman's eyes still held doubt. Tosh began thinking again of the impossible and the improbable, and the chance that Jack was lying to them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an exclamation from Ianto. "Iblis, the Evil!"

"What?" Jack scoffed. "You know him?"

"No, but you might. Aren't you trying to find that Bilis fellow?" The Welshman's words began to tumble out faster. "Iblis is an anagram of Bilis, and I did see that name today!"

"Where?"

"There was a sign..." Ianto's eyes darted as he accessed his visual memory. "It caught my eye, because I thought it was a typo for 'manager.' But it must have been 'Manger.'"

"_Where_ did you see it?" Jack's whole body tensed, ready to take off like a hound on the scent. Tosh held her breath while Ianto tried to remember.

"It was Derbyshire! Across from the sporting goods store. It was an antique clock shop!"

"That's our man! Gwen," Jack barked, "let's go!" They rushed out the cog door.

===#===

Toshiko went back to Ianto's computer station to check on the Rift calculations, which she'd restarted from her remote connection in the SUV. "Should I cancel the search for Bilis?" she wondered aloud.

"I wouldn't," Ianto said. "This lead could be just a coincidence, a dead end."

Tosh looked at him. "A time-changing creepy dude in an antique clock shop? I hardly think so."

Ianto shrugged. "Let's hope Jack and Gwen find the solution to all our problems." His eyes wandered towards the rail where the two elves were perched.

"And guess what," the blond said to his companion with a dazzling grin. "_I_ am the Champion of Torchwood! I now outrank you."

"Says who?" Bannon griped.

"The very handsome captain," Zevran leered. "When we had to face the Snickersnacks and duel for sovereignty of the world!"

Tosh and Ianto shared a look even as Bannon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're the Champion of Bullshitting."

"Tcha! _You're_ jealous. Admit it!"

"Yeah, right."

"All right," Ianto interrupted. "There's no need for another argument. Again."

The elves grumped and folded their arms. Honestly, you'd think Ianto had taken away sweets from some unruly children.

"Don't you have anything to eat around here?" Bannon complained.

"You can't be hungry again," Ianto said.

Zevran said, "Not again - still!"

"Grey Wardens eat a lot," Bannon insisted.

"It's what makes us so ridiculously awesome!"

Tosh choked down a laugh at Ianto's barely-heard comment on that. Then the Welshman sighed and headed for the kitchenette. "Come on, I'll see what I can dig up."

===#===

The road was still closed, though the dead 'dragon' had been cleared away. Gwen thought Jack was going to knock over the barricade with the SUV, but he stopped short and killed the engine. "We're here," he reported over the comm. "Where's this clock shop?"

"_Across from the sporting goods store,_" Ianto replied. "_About 25 meters past where we killed the Allosaur._" There was some sort of commotion on the other end of the line before Ianto clicked off, in the middle of explaining that by 'we' he meant the members of the Torchwood team.

Gwen shook her head as she caught up with Jack's long strides. They came upon the storefront. 'A Stitch in Time,' the sign read. 'Antique timepieces repaired and restored.' It looked dark, but what would Bilis be doing? Staying home and cowering under the bed?

The door was unlocked and opened with a friendly jingle. The air was dry and smelled old, like the air of an antique bookshop. Clocks of various period styles lined the walls and shelves, filling the still air with their quiet ticking. A baroque, gold-leafed Louis XIVth clock sat on a shelf, in pristine condition. A workbench further back held an array of cogworks, springs, and mysterious brass constructions.

"There's clocks here from so many different eras," Gwen mused.

"He hops back in time, grabs the latest model, then brings it here to sell as a valuable antique," said Jack with a tinge of admiration. "Not a bad racket."

"But how does he do that? Travel back and forth in time?"

"I am cursed, it seems."

Gwen and Jack startled and looked to the doorway of the back room. Bilis stepped out, his yellow cravat crisply folded, his grey hair regimentally slicked back over his head which, now that one mentioned it, did closely resemble a turnip. His eyes appeared black for a moment, but as he moved further into the light, Gwen could see they were merely a watery blue.

"I find that I can step between eras as easily as stepping into another room," he continued in a dry, papery voice.

"You're from 1942," Jack said.

"As are you, Captain," Bilis replied easily. "Oh, but that's not quite accurate, is it?"

"Not quite."

"And, unlike myself, you cannot simply step into the next room. You need to force yourself through the cracks. And when you returned, the cracks began to widen." He spread his hands. "That's the price you pay."

Gwen kept a sharp eye on both men through this exchange. Bilis seemed in unusually cooperative mood; she wasn't sure she trusted it. She sensed Jack tensing up with all this talk of time-walking, and Bilis' extensive knowledge of it. She needed to keep the mood civil and cordial. Get Bilis on their side. "You understand what's happening?" she asked him.

He turned his watery gaze on her. "This city is built on a Rift in space and time," he explained, just as Jack had once explained it to her. "The captain's passage has damaged it. The crack was opened too wide. It set off a chain of stress through the entire Rift."

"So you know what caused it," she went on. "Do you know how it can be repaired?"

"The Rift must be opened fully."

"No way," Jack cut him off.

"Can we even do that?" Gwen asked.

"The means are at your disposal," Bilis said with a sly look at the captain.

"Gwen, you saw what happened when the Rift was opened yesterday. We'd be risking the lives of millions of people."

"The Rift was opened improperly," Bilis explained. "It must be reset. Then, it will be able to draw back all the detritus that it has spewed forth."

"Like flushing a cosmic toilet?" Jack scoffed.

Bilis shrugged with a moue of distaste. "A crude, but accurate, analogy."

"And you're the cosmic janitor," Jack said, almost laughing. Then he pulled his gun. "You know so much about it, you can come back with us and explain it in great detail."

Bilis blinked in surprise. Hesitantly, he put his hands up, his mouth open in fear. "Of course, I will cooperate in any way I can." He shot a pleading look at Gwen, but she didn't protest Jack's handling of the situation.

"And you can also tell us why some of my people saw you down in the Vault, just before all hell broke loose. Let's go."

Bilils turned to come out from behind the workbench, took a step, and vanished.

"Dammit!" Jack shoved his gun back in its holster and keyed his comm as he turned for the door. "Trace any temporal energy in and around the clock shop. And scan for other temporal signatures, possibly near the old dance hall. We _cannot_ lose this guy!" He flung the door open and swept outside.

Gwen hesitated a moment, casting about for any clues into the enigma of Bilis. Something that would let her read him, predict him. But the faces of the clocks were blank, the chatter of their talk empty.

She turned for the door and came face to face with Bilis. She gasped.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for your loss." His voice was weighted with regret, and she felt dread growing in the pit of her stomach.

"What do you mean?" she asked, almost afraid to know.

"The lives of those touched by the Rift are random. It is a shame it touched one you love."

"Rhys?" But he was home safe, wasn't he? No, the Rift did not know the difference between a home and a workplace, market, street, forest, or field. It was all through the city, everywhere. She staggered back and bolted out the door.

===#===

Jack was outside on the street, looking at a whole lot of nothing on the scanner of his wrist strap when Gwen blew past him. "I don't see any sign of- Gwen?"

He sprinted after her. She yanked open the driver side door of the SUV and climbed up. "Get in!"

He swung around and clambered into the front seat as she pulled out in reverse. "Did you see Bilis?"

"He said Rhys was in trouble."

It was Jack's turn to grip the dashboard as the black SUV tore through the streets.

===#===

Gwen kept redialing Rhys' phone. All she got was 'Not In Service.' What the bloody hell did that mean? Didn't he have voice mail? If his phone was off, it should go to bloody voice mail on the bloody servers!

She threw the phone down in frustration. Jack bent to retrieve it. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"I don't know!" she snapped. "I won't know until we get there." She was not about to take Bilis at his word. No, he couldn't be right. He couldn't know.

===#===

When she burst into the apartment she shared with Rhys, she knew instantly something was wrong. She denied the feeling. "Rhys?"

The apartment was silent, hollow. Devoid. Gwen caught a whiff of gas and moved around the kitchenette counter to the oven.

The oven door was open, the gas turned on. She grabbed the knob and cut it off. She expected to see Rhys lying here on the tiles, a victim of a simple slip and fall, the daft idiot. But there was nothing. A dish of uncooked lasagna sat crookedly athwart one of the stove burners.

"Where's he gone? Rhys is gone." She was not about to give in to panic, oh no. Not PC Gwen Cooper. There was a rational explanation, there was a rational plan of action.

"He could have just stepped out."

"He didn't just step out! His phone is _gone_. He left the oven door open the gas on. He's gone, Jack!"

The captain flipped open his wrist strap, frowning as he scanned the apartment. "There's residual Rift energy spiking all over, here."

"What does that mean?" Gwen turned, looking for clues, any sign. "Something came through? Something took him? Scared him? Chased him off?" There was nothing. Nothing out of place but a lopsided dish of lasagna. Gwen's mind refused to process it. "Where is it, then? And where's he gone?"

"It's a negative Rift spike," Jack said with maddening calm. "The Rift opens out here in Cardiff, but it isn't just the exit pipe. Sometimes it takes things away."

"And it took Rhys?" Gwen raked her hand through her hair. Of all the random shit the Rift caused, of all the things Torchwood were trained to handle, why the hell did it have to take Rhys? He did not sign up for that! God, he still thought she worked at the police department!

"I'm sorry."

"Well, where is he?"

"I don't know, Gwen."

She marched over to him, determined to shake the answers out of him if she had to. "Well bloody find him!"

"I can't!"

"Use your damned future technology, your alien devices! Scan the Rift signature, the damned temporal energy!"

"The Rift encompasses all of time and space," Jack told her harshly. "He could have landed in tomorrow, or a million years ago, or on any of billions of planets, or in the heart of a sun, or just nowhere, in empty space!"

Gone. Just like that, snuffed out of existence. Dead or not dead, but she'd never know. Gwen was not about to accept that. Not without a fight. "Then bloody find him! I know you don't give a damn about him, but I do, and I don't care if you have to comb the bloody universe! You find him, and you bring him back!"

Jack gripped her arms, looked down into her face, his eyes steel. "I'm sorry, Gwen. There's _nothing_ I can do."

"Then what the hell is the point of you, bloody Jack Harkness?" She shoved him. She hadn't meant to do it so hard, but she wanted out of his grip, out of his hands; she wanted him out of the bloody way. The couch caught him behind the shins and he staggered against it.

She didn't care; she rushed past him, that damned, indestructible man. What would he care about Rhys? She pelted down the stairs and to the SUV, her blood pounding in her ears so that she barely heard Jack calling her name.

It was too late for that. If he wouldn't do anything, she'd find someone who could.

===#===

Jack bolted out the door, but the SUV was already tearing away, leaving rubber tracks at the curb. "Shit," he huffed. He didn't really blame Gwen. She was upset, and upset women... He keyed his comm. "Ianto."

"_Sir?_"

"I'm at Gwen's apartment. Come pick me up."

"_Where's Gwen?_"

"She took the SUV. Just come get me," he said, cutting off any more questions. He had to get back to the Hub, to guard the Rift.

===#===

Gwen burst into the clock shop, making the bells jangle. "Bilis!" She stopped herself, drew what was meant to be a calming breath. "Bilis?" she called again in a less threatening and angry voice.

"I'm right here, my dear."

Despite her determination not to jump when he appeared, she did so anyway. "Rhys," she started, and tried to steady her voice. "He's gone. How did you know?"

"It's part of my curse," he said. "To know things, to know the future, but to be unable to affect it."

She nodded. "Can I get him back? This... this cosmic flush thing - when it takes back all the chaos it's deposited here...," she gestured, unable to keep her hands still lest they shake, "Will it... can it bring Rhys back?"

Bilis suddenly caught her hands in his, stilling them. His fingers were all bone and sinew, his skin like dried parchment. "I promise you, Gwen Cooper, if you see through to opening the Rift, your beloved will be returned to you."

His eyes held her, with some strength behind them she'd not noticed before. She felt frozen. Then she blinked. "How? How can you promise this? How can you _know?_"

With a disappointed frown, he let her hands slip from his. "I know more about the Rift than any other living being."

"The elves - Zevran - said that you told them you were the guardian of the Rift, before Torchwood."

He nodded.

"And what is it you want? Why do you want the Rift opened?"

"I want the same thing everyone else wants. An end to this chaos." He clasped his hands. "Do you not trust me?"

"Jack says opening the Rift is dangerous."

His eyes narrowed. "And do you trust him?"

"With my life." And Bilis may not have noticed the slight hitch in her voice, but she did. As if there were an unspoken 'but.' Then she realized...

_"We don't know who you are, or why you're here."_

_"Are you even human?"_

_"There's _nothing_ I can do."_

And she recalled the faces of those children, lost in time, as Jack left them behind.

She stepped back from Bilis. She'd stopped shaking. "How do I open the Rift?"

"Your friends have the key," he said with a faint smile. "All you need do is see that they use it."

===#===

Gwen found Owen pacing in the hall behind the tourist shop's secret door. "What are you doing here?"

He turned to her, his defenses down. She saw the vulnerable look in his eyes. "I saw Diane. I... this is all my fault. I have to fix this. We need to open the Rift."

"And you know how."

"Yeah. If we can convince Tosh to help."

"Come on."

===#===

When Jack and Ianto got back to the Hub, everyone was there; the new guys, and even Owen. "What's he doing here?"

Owen opened his mouth, but Gwen beat him to it. "Jack, just listen a moment."

"We need to open the Rift," said Owen.

"Bilis is right," said Gwen. "Opening the Rift will reset everything."

Jack shook his head. "Bilis is manipulating you. Can't you see that?"

"No," Toshiko said. "The calculations prove it. The Rift will open along every previous point and undo what's been done. Everything will go back to normal."

"And we'll go home," Bannon said. Zevran nodded, and the two of them didn't look as if they'd be swayed.

"It doesn't work that way," Jack told them.

Owen said, "I saw Diane. She told me we had to open the Rift."

"How could you see her? She flew off into the Rift weeks ago. She doesn't even know what the Rift is," Jack insisted.

"That's what Lisa said," Ianto added.

"And my mother," said Tosh. "The veil between the living and dead will tear if these Rift Storms continue. We have to stop it."

"Opening the Rift is not going to stop it!" Jack raised his voice, since they were having a hard time seeing reason.

"Sitting here, doing nothing like you want us to do is not going to stop it, either!" Owen turned and left the workstation area. "I'm doing what has to be done." He stormed across the gantry leading past the water tower, and down towards the controls of the Rift manipulator.

Ianto left Jack's side to go after him. "Make sure you stop him this time," the captain growled.

Ianto looked back, just briefly. His face was a cold mask, showing nothing.

Feeling an icy thread of doubt, Jack looked to Toshiko. She lowered her gaze, not meeting his eyes. Mute, she followed Ianto. The two elves slunk off with her.

Gwen came to him. Surely, she wouldn't turn against him. But, "It has to be done, Jack," was all she said before she, too, walked away.

And Jack was left standing alone.

He closed his eyes. Just like that, his team had deserted him. His team, closer than family, more loyal than friends. The people he'd hand-picked to follow him, to guard the world at large. Now they were about to destroy it. The cold spread over him, numbing him.

Above family, friends, loyalty, he had a duty. Against the six billion people of planet Earth, against the entire future of humanity, personal feelings didn't rate a grain of sand. He took a breath and severed his emotions.

He drew his Webley, his one faithful companion through the years. It shouldn't come as such a shock to him, being left alone to carry on. No matter how many times he went through it, it always seemed to come unexpectedly. He released the catch, and opened the well-oiled frame to check that it was loaded and ready.

Yes. There was one bullet for each of them.

===#===

Owen stood at the Rift manipulator controls, the expert in operating this alien thing by dint of the fact he was the only one to ever use it, once before. Ianto stood at his shoulder, awaiting his turn to input his retinal scan and password into the machine's new security lock. Gwen stood by Tosh, who had her laptop perched on one side of the manipulator's cabinet, so she could access the calculation results, which would give them the number sequence to input into the machine.

Bannon and Zevran stood on the other side of the machine, preparing to return home. They checked their weapons, including the shiny new compound bows Ianto had bought them. And Bannon checked his pockets.

"Did you get the crushing prison?" Zevran asked him.

"I couldn't find it," the other elf said, disappointed. "But I have a bunch of these magic finger spells."

"There had better not be any silverware in there," Ianto told them.

"Of course not," Bannon said, in all wide-eyed innocence.

"The world's going to hell and Tea-boy's worried about the silverware," Owen griped. "Put in your damned password." Ianto took his place in front of the retinal scanner.

From behind them came Jack's voice. "Move away from the console!"

They turned. Jack had his sidearm leveled at them. "Jack!" Gwen exclaimed in shock.

"Don't make me shoot you, because I _will_ kill each and every one of you if I have to." His eyes were hard, his face was stone, carved into a threatening snarl. He meant it. "And you two! Stay where I can see you!"

Gwen glanced back at the elves. They froze in mid-sneak and slowly put their hands up.

"We have to do this, Jack," Owen said, facing his former commander. "It's the only way to stop this madness."

Gwen said calmly, "Opening the Rift will set everything back to the way it originally was."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Jack snapped at her. "The Rift is not some magic wand. It is not a big 'reset' button. You'll crack this planet like an egg!"

"You don't know that," Tosh shot back. "You haven't seen the calculations. You wouldn't even try!"

"I do know that you do _not_ mess with the Rift. _Ever!_" He took a breath, steadied his two-handed shooting stance. "Now I'm giving you all an order. Move away from that console."

No one moved. Owen said, "I'm relieving you of command."

"You don't even work here any more!"

"I don't give a rat's arse! You're not fit to give us orders!"

"This judgment call from the guy who walked bare-handed into a weevil cage just to prove how tough he is?"

Owen flinched back. Gwen raised her hands slowly. "Jack, put the gun down."

Ianto said, "If you'd just listen to reason."

The captain's eyes darted from one to the other. "Oh, you're a united front now? Did you forget how your comrades pumped your girlfriend full of bullets?" Ianto's face went pale. "After he hid a deadly cyborg from us? And you, Toshiko," Jack turned his cold steel gaze on her. "So desperate for a scrap of attention, you'll shag any alien with a pretty trinket?"

Shamed, the quiet young woman bowed her head.

Gwen walked calmly towards Jack. "You have to stop this." He had no choice but to lower his weapon or shoot her now. He couldn't do that. She knew him. He would see reason. "This is necessary. We know the risks-"

"Obviously, you don't."

"But this will save lives, Jack! It's our only chance to bring Rhys back." He had to see how important this was to her.

His eyes narrowed. "Right," he sneered. "And you care so much about him that you spend half your time in Owen's bed."

Gwen felt the blood drain from her face. Jack knew? He knew about that? But how long had ne known? All these weeks, he'd never given any indication that he'd even suspected! Toshiko had thrown her sneaking glances, but Jack hadn't even blinked. Didn't he even _care?_ It was as if he expected her to buckle under the stress and become unfaithful, as if that were part and parcel of doing business at Torchwood. Losing your humanity, that was the entry cost. And then there was the retirement package, erasing your life as if none of it really mattered.

Furious, Gwen lashed out and slugged him, gun or no gun. Her fist cracked against his jaw, and he crumpled. Owen and Ianto closed in on either side of her, jumping him while he was vulnerable.

Owen came up with the gun. As Jack shoved Ianto aside and tried to sit up, three shots rang out. Blood exploded frm Jack's chest and he collapsed, dead. Tosh screamed at the sudden noise. And even Gwen heard herself saying, "Oh my God!"

"Well it's a damn sight less than what he'd do to us," Owen snarled. Holding the gun pointed at the ceiling, he returned to the console. "Besides, didn't you say it wouldn't be permanent?"

"It isn't." Gwen pressed a hand to her chest and felt her heart galloping. It was not permanent.

"Tosh," Owen barked, "get his retinal scan while he's docile. Ianto, what's his password?"

"I'll get it."

Toshiko stared, frozen, at Jack's body. It was always a shock to see someone die. Gwen didn't think she would ever get used to it, no matter how many times she witnessed it, not even with Jack. She gripped Tosh's hand. "Come on; I'll help, yeah?"

They knelt at his head, and Gwen pulled his eyelids back from his unmoving, vacant eye. Tosh ran the scanner over it.

They all submitted to the scan and entered their passwords. Owen returned to the main controls. "Tosh, what's the number sequence?"

"Hang on, it's just about finished." The laptop blipped. Toshiko blinked at it.

Ianto moved over and looked at the screen. "Oh."

"What is it?" Owen demanded.

"It's just a number," Toshiko said.

"Well, what number?"

Ianto quoted direly, "Let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the beast, for it is a human number."

Gwen and Owen moved around and looked at the screen.

666.

"Well what's that mean?" Gwen asked.

"Nothing!" Tosh insisted. "It's just a number. There's an infinite number of them - it could be any number. They're just numbers."

"Right," Owen said, moving back to the console. He punched in the sequence. Everyone else gathered around, subconsciously holding the rail that circled the Rift manipulator's central column. Owen put his hand on the control lever and looked to each of them. "We're agreed, right? This is the best course of action." Now was the last chance to back out.

Bannon gripped Zevran's hand. "We're ready; let's go!"

Toshiko nodded.

Gwen said, "Agreed."

And Ianto, "Do it."

Owen threw the lever.

===#===

And the world cracked like an egg.

===_X_===

* * *

_End Notes:_

2500 Bloodsong points to the fans of _Misfits of Science_, if you had fond memories of the ice cream truck!

1000 Bloodsong points to fans of _Soldier_ who recognied Sgt Todd and his platoon. If you haven't seen that movie (the one with Kurt Russell), I highly recommend it. The last 1/3 is kinda Rambo-ish, but the rest of it is really deep and thought-provoking.

5000 Bloodsong points if you recognized this:  
_In New York City, a giant alien monstrosity appeared near Times Square, crushing half a block. Luckily for New Yorkers, the shock of its arrival seems to have killed the creature before it could go on a rampage and cause more destruction.  
_...as Ozymandias' ploy in _Watchmen_. ;)

For all you headbangers out there:

_"Iblis, the Evil, shall herd the non-believers, the sinners of the Earth, sowing the seeds of dissent, wreaking deadly havok on mankind."  
_This is Ianto, doing a riff on my misquote of Testament's "Alone in the Dark." It's supposed to be "Aimless, the people huddled in a pack, wreaking deadly havok on mankind." I always thought it sounded like "Iblis, the Evil" doing something. :X

Bilis also gives props to Savatage. "That's the Price you Pay" is one of their songs from the album _Hall of the Mountain King_.

And yes, Ianto quotes Iron Maiden, "The Number of the Beast." (Which quotes from the Bible.)


End file.
